


Leap of Faith

by NadiaHart



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (sorta) - Freeform, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Kidnapping, Awkward Castiel (Supernatural), Blood and Violence, Bloodlust, Cabin Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Castiel (Supernatural) Whump, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Time, Castiel/Dean Winchester Mutual Pining, Come Eating, Come Marking, Come Swallowing, Creampie, DeanCasMB2018, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Full Shift Werewolves, Fusion, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, I promise, Idiots in Love, Implied Mpreg, Implied/Referenced Torture, Isolation, Knotting, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mail Order Brides, Marking, Masturbation, Masturbation in Shower, Mating, Mating Bond, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Castiel, Omega Dean, Omega Verse, Pack Bonding, Pack Building, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Past Abuse, Past Torture, Pining, Possessive Castiel, Scent Marking, Sharing Body Heat, Snowed In, Strangers to Lovers, Threats of Violence, Violence, Virgin Castiel, Werewolf Mates, cabin in the woods, desecration of a perfectly good pie, elements from teen wolf, everything works out, living off the grid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-16 16:54:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 70,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/pseuds/NadiaHart
Summary: For some of us, it’s easy, close your eyes, take a breath, and jump. For others, it takes an entire bottle of whiskey, a slow, unreliable internet connection, and years of self-induced isolation on a picturesque mountainside to do what they have to do. What they need to do. Many years after losing his own pack, his family, an act he blames himself for, Alpha-Were Castiel is skilled at not giving himself even the smallest of pleasures, including that of a pack. An alphaneedsa pack. It’s written into their DNA. It’s so much more than just having a mate. It’s the pack bonds that make an alpha whole, and the longer Castiel denies himself one, the more he loses of his humanity.When a drunken, desperate act brings a beautiful, vibrant omega to his doorstep with a disastrous winter storm nipping at his heels, Castiel knows he does not deserve the gift. Sending Dean back down the mountain would be certain death for the young were, but allowing him to stay will undoubtedly change Castiel’s life forever. Maybe it’s time for Castiel to leave his darkness in the past, where it belongs. With Dean standing next to him on the precipice, there’s nothing left for Castiel to do but close his eyes, take a breath, and leap.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to my first ever MiniBang! This story has expanded into something so different from what I first planned, however, I hope that you enjoy where the tale takes you none the less. 
> 
> Many, many, many thank you's to all the people who helped me slog through this work, [@MsCaptainWinchester](https://mscaptainwinchester.tumblr.com/), [@HarplessCastiel,](http://harplesscastiel.tumblr.com/) [@FoxyMoley](https://foxymoley.tumblr.com/), @Pooky.
> 
> This fic would not be half as wonderful as it is without my wonderful, talented artist [@Regthedogsled.](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/) Who took on more art for me than I ever imagined they would agree to and never said no to any of my crazy ideas. 
> 
> I also appreciate the constant support of my friends and family over on the [ProfoundBond Discord](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP) server and to the mods of the MiniBang, your work is tireless and underappreciated, none of this would be possible without you.
> 
> ###  ** A few _very_ important notes before we begin **
> 
>   
>  There are two types of A/B/O happening in this fic. The first is standard, secondary gender and pack dynamic's A/B/O that you are used to. **_A_** lpha, as a title, **_a_** lpha as a gender. Alphas tend to lead packs, betas and omegas follow. All your standard A/B/O tropes are in play, for the most part. Alpha's eyes flash red, omegas gold.
> 
> The variation that you will need to be aware of, is the shifting aspect of this fic. You will see the term **Beta-shift or Beta-form** in this fic and that relates to a phase of shifting that _all_ werewolves are capable of. It is a cross between the human and more animalistic traits of the wolf, but please do not picture a Van Helsing xenomorphs, that's not what we are going for here. Luckily my wonderful artist has done some really beautiful Beta-Shift Art, that you can see in [chapter 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15441564/chapters/35876373). And finally, then there is the Full-Shift, which is exactly what it sounds like, changing from human to a full four-legged wolf, but the wolves are huge, feel free to picture some like, Twilight wolves for scale or like bear-sized wolves. This is something that has been lost to almost all but the oldest Were bloodlines. It's rare, almost a myth at this point. 
> 
> With that said, any and all questions while you read can be messaged to me over on my [Tumblr](https://hartlessfiction.tumblr.com)

“This is the last time, Castiel.” Anna’s soft voice floats to him on the wind. It’s biting cold, as it rushes, in cruel gusts, over the surface of the lake and flutters his coat around his calves. Rust colored leaves drift on its currents, landing and sinking below the crisp fathomless water of the mountain lake. The weather is turning early this year, and Castiel feels it in his bones as if it’s mirroring him, growing cold like the ice that’s steadily formed over his heart since he first found himself on the mountain. It fits, it’s fitting.

The days are only just slipping from August to September, but already his isolated mountainside is preparing for the winter months. There is life all around him—he feels it passing him by, animals scurrying in the underbrush, their movements loud to his sensitive ears. He can tell by the scent of frost in the air that this winter will be severe; it will come early and last longer than any before it. Castiel can hear it in the desperate way the squirrels, rabbits, and deer seek out their food, how they scurry, how their hearts pound. An eagle dips low; its talons skirt the surface of the lake before dipping under to snatch its prize.

“Castiel.” Anna’s voice is insistent but faint, fading in and out on the wind. It’s not really there; she’s not really there. She hasn’t been there for years, not since... He’s definitely losing his mind.

The dock creaks under his booted feet, and in the early evening sun, he sees her. Her white dress flows loosely around her bare feet, red hair cascading like burnished copper around her shoulders. “Cassie,” Anna whispers fondly, each silent step she takes across the lake towards him echoes in his chest, widening the hole there. “This is the last time, little brother. You have to let me go, let us go.” Her voice is kind, but echoes distantly, ethereally, even as she strides closer to him. “It’s not your fault; you are not to blame.”

She steps up onto the dock, her form opaque, and cups his jaw. The touch is phantom. His mind tells him her hand is cold, and though rationally he knows she’s an apparition he tries to lean into her palm anyway. It’s been so long since someone touched him.

“You must go on; you must survive. Our kind is not meant to be alone, little brother, and you have grown into such a good, capable alpha. Don’t you think that there is someone out there who needs you? Find them, for us, if not for yourself. You are so consumed with punishment, a thing you do not deserve, that you’re missing your chance to live. You deserve ha…”

“I deserve nothing,” Castiel says, bitter, disbelieving. He’s surprised at how rough and foreign his voice sounds. How many years has it been since he’s last spoke? “I wish you were here, Anna, but you’re not. You’re not real.”

“Castiel…” Anna chastises with a small smile. “This was never your fault. Do not take on the pain and anguish of something that was not yours to control in the first place.”

“I… I should have… I could have been better. I should have protected you all. It was my duty.” He looks up at her finally, dismayed to see that her eyes are full of understanding. Too full of forgiveness he doesn’t deserve.

“You were not our Alpha, Castiel. You were not even old enough to begin training for the rite. Just a pup yourself.” She reminds him softly. “You did not start the feud, and our blood is not on your hands. But now, you _must_ go on. You are all that remains of the Novak pack, and it pains me, it pains us, to see you withering away in this self-induced isolation.” Her hand falls away from his face, and the cold promise of another lonely winter replaces it. “You cannot go on like this. An alpha needs a pack.” Her voice is even more distant, now, fading by the second.

“Anna, please. Don’t,” Castiel reaches for her as she is swept away with a sharp gust of wind. Overcome with despair, his legs give, and his knees crash painfully to the dock below him.

“Find your happiness, Castiel. You deserve to be loved, little brother.”

 _“ANNA_ _!”_ his voice ricochets around the lake, coming back to him again and again; the lonely wail of a lost and forgotten soul.

Lifting his head, he howls his misery to the slate grey sky, though he knows no one will be there to return his call. He knows no one will come; no one ever comes.


	2. Something, Someone

It could be days later, or possibly only hours, Castiel so easily loses track of time now. The winters are always hard on his mental state. He’s standing on the porch, absently rubbing deer blood from the grooves of his hands when the sound of a vehicle reaches his ears. He pauses, lifting his head, eyes sharp on the tree line. There is only one trail wide enough for a vehicle to get through and only one person who knows how to find it. It can’t be that time already can it?

Dropping down the first two steps, the worn wood cool under his bare feet, Castiel cocks his head slightly, listening. The car is about fifteen minutes out and making good progress up the treacherous trail that leads to his cabin. Its rear brakes squeak, and the shocks on the front left passenger side crunch like they need to be replaced. Benny.

He squints up at the sun; it’s high, distant and cold in the noon sky. His thoughts scatter as the rag drags over his chapped fingers, rubbing the rust colored blood deeper into the grooves of his hand, than out. He must have really lost touch with the outside world to have forgotten about this quarter’s delivery. It’s the most important one of the year, and it will have to last him through the coming winter.  

Benny is the only person Castiel sees outside of the exceedingly rare emergency trip to the small town nestled in the valley below his mountain. When Castiel first drifted here and decided to stay, he’d set up an arrangement with the local general store owner. Four times a year, for a hefty sum, Benny brings all his supplies and any special requests up to the cabin. Castiel doesn't deserve the small friendship they’ve built over the years, but he clings to it all the same.

Before long, the old tan and white pickup fights its way–protesting loudly–into the small clearing in front of his cabin. Benny hops out from behind the steering wheel with a friendly wave. Castiel flicks the rag he was using on his hands over his shoulder, and pads out into the yard to meet the man, the ground cold under his exposed toes.

“Novak.” He says gruffly, skirting the truck and popping the hatch in the back. “Got your email. Expecting guests?”

Castiel shifts his feet; he shakes his head. He’s not expecting anyone. He’s never expecting anyone. His eyes drift to the packages in the flatbed, and he holds his arms out for Benny to hand over the first of many boxes. Fresh fruit. Anything that was in season, anything Benny could get his hands on. Castiel drops his nose into a bushel of apples, breathing in their bright, crisp scent. Warmth blossoms in his stomach and saliva floods his mouth; he wants to bend and sink his teeth into the ripe red flesh, it’s a strange and intense reaction. Shaking his head Cas turns and pads back up the steps of his porch to deposit his bounty.

“Order’s a bit bigger than usual,” Benny says, tone friendly. It’s not a question; Benny doesn’t ever expect Castiel to answer him, so he doesn’t ask actual questions.

Castiel knows, after so many years receiving deliveries, that Benny isn’t normally a chatty person. Sometimes his sentences come out stilted or too rough, but he talks to, or rather, _for,_ Castiel as they work. Maybe Benny feels bad for him, being out here all alone with no one to talk to, no company to keep. No pack of his own.

Benny doesn’t pry into his past, and he doesn’t seem to mind that Castiel rarely says anything at all. He doesn’t bring up that Castiel is a lone alpha, doesn’t say how that's not healthy for their kind. He doesn't talk about the wanderers, wolves who for whatever reason have lost their home and are seeking out new packs. He never implies that Castiel should come down and meet some of the wanderers that pass through on their way to larger cities, or to group homes to await placement with a new pack.

And that’s just fine, he and Benny have an unspoken agreement. Castiel can’t let anyone get too close to him, even if his wolf wants it, craves it. Even if, every now and again, he drifts a little too far into the other man’s space just to savor his familiar scent. A scent that's not sad, lonely alpha, like Castiel. Benny never says anything about that either, about how Castiel is just withering away on the mountainside, how every year he speaks less and less when Benny comes with the deliveries. Castiel is eternally grateful for the little spark of life Benny tries to breathe into the short time they spend together.

“That’s a nice buck ya’ got there,” Benny says kindly, his blue eyes slide to the deer Castiel has strung up. “I haven’t had venison in longer than I’m willing to admit, so if you’re interested in a trade....”

The deer’s cut open and draining into a round metal bucket; it’s the fifth one he’s killed in the past two weeks. The winter is especially hard on his alpha instincts. With no pack to protect and care for, he goes into overdrive stocking up on food and supplies, just in case… _just in case._ On top of the supplies Benny’s brought him, Castiel's got enough to sustain himself into next fall, let alone make it through the winter. With a short nod, Castiel agrees.

“Excellent.” Benny slaps his hands together. He darts around the side of the truck, throwing his bulky body into the cab and coming out a moment later with a rectangular box. He hands it off, and Castiel opens the lid to find two large bottles of what appears to be a very expensive whiskey. His eyes go wide, head snapping up to stare at the other man.

“No,” he rumbles out, voice grating like metal in his throat. Benny lets out a full body shiver, his eyes dropping, boots shifting. And this is why Castiel doesn’t speak much around him, around anyone. His alpha tone is strong, and it seeps into his words whenever he is feeling emotional.

“Ah, yeah…” Benny adjusts the cap he’s wearing. “The first one’s just a gift. Andrea and I have been doing real well since you decided to order through us. Even survived them building a Wal-Mart in the next town over. So yeah, there...” Benny cuts off, squaring his shoulders and standing a little straighter. “You know, thanks.”

“Thanks is not necessary, Benny,” Castiel says softly, careful to keep his tone even. His throat is dry, and it hurts to talk.

“Well, look, just take it okay. ‘Cause of you we’re doing real well, well enough that we... uh, we tried and, well, Andrea’s pupped. We are due early spring. That’s why there’s a second bottle.”

Something wells up inside Castiel, something warm, unfolding like a flower in the center of his chest, sweet and soft around the edges. His eyes sting, and he blinks a few times. It breaks, the feeling, like a cresting wave, and he’s left hollow again, so much more empty than before.

“A pup?” he manages, clinging to the box in his hands. Benny adjusts his cap again, nodding, his smile wide and his scent curling, spicy and warm, happy.

“Yeah.”

“Congratulations, Benny. Congr… L–let me…” Turning, Castiel bolts up the steps and into the dark, cold confines of his cabin. He places the box of whiskey on the rough wood kitchen table, and darts to the freezer in the back storage room. He fishes out three large packages of chop meat, then heads to his dry storage and pulls down a ziplock bag of jerky. Something loosens in his chest as heads back to the kitchen and sets it all down on the table. He carefully removes the two bottles of whiskey, replacing them with the meat.

Rationally he knows that Benny is not part of his pack, that the beta has a mate and a family and an Alpha of his own, but as he slips the homemade packet of jerky alongside the ground meat, he feels good. He _feels_ like he is caring for his pack, for Benny and his mate. It’s the Alpha’s job, after all, and it’s something that Castiel knows is missing from his life.

The chasm in his chest where his pack bonds should be grows steadily wider each passing season. It eats at him. Chews on his sanity, and drives him deeper and deeper into the embrace of his wolf. If he’s not careful, if his control slips for even a moment, he could go feral. And then he’d be a danger not only to himself but to everyone he encounters. Castiel’s thoughts swarm, nipping painfully at him and the warmth fades from his chest, his wolf whines, lonely and painfully loud in his ears.

“Novak?” Benny’s voice calls from the door, and Castiel snaps his head up to meet the man’s eyes. “You alright?”

With a conscious effort, Castiel releases his white-knuckle grip on the box, the soft whine dying in his throat. Shocked he was so lost to his thoughts that he made that pathetic noise out loud. Benny, the good beta he is, responded to the sound, coming to his aid. That’s not how it should be. Castiel should be caring for him, but, no that’s not his place.

“Yes, yes,” Castiel clears his throat, lifting the box and closing the distance between them. “For your mate and pup. Keep them strong, safe. I will see you in a few months.”

“Thanks.” Benny smiles as he takes the box, heading back down the steps and towards his vehicle. “Email me if you need anything. The town got a snowmobile so, you know. I can make the trip up if...”

“I will notify you if I have a need,” Castiel says roughly, knowing he won’t. Benny fidgets and nods before climbing into the cab of his truck.

Standing in the doorway, Castiel feels rooted to the spot. Waiting, just waiting for something, someone he knows isn’t coming. Even when the squeaking of Benny’s brakes is too far out for him to hear any more, he stays. The sun sinks low in the sky, and the wind howls through the trees. Night comes on fast, now that summer is bleeding into fall. An owl hoots low and ominous from the trees that tower like sentries around his small cabin. The sound finally pulls Castiel from the abysmal depths of his thoughts, and he steps back into the darkness, shutting the door on the last bitter rays of the sun.


	3. Unease

When Castiel blinks his eyes open, there’s an empty glass on the table in front of his face. His head throbs dully, his vision is blurry, and his mouth tastes like something crawled in it and died. He’s groggy and cannot for the life of him fathom how or why he fell asleep hunched over the small desk in his living room and not in his bed. He sits up far too quickly, and the cabin lurches around him, tipping on its side. With a strangled yelp, Castiel flails as he crashes to the floor. He groans, his hand lifting sluggishly to his head as a headache explodes behind his eyes. Rolling over onto his back, he knocks into something. It clatters hollowly across the wooden floor.  

The whiskey bottle. The  _ empty _ whiskey bottle. A pathetic sound slips from his throat as Castiel slowly drags himself upright, pulling his knees towards his chest and wrapping his arms around them as his head spins. What happened last night? He can’t remember much; the first glass went down easy, too easy. After that, every time he reached for the tumbler, it was empty, needing to be filled. Vaguely Castiel remembers taking out his woodworking tools, wanting to make something for Benny’s pup but deciding better of it, after almost slicing open his palm. There is something else, though, something niggles at the back of his mind. What is it? What did he do last night? And why is he at his desk?

Water. He needs water, and maybe some bacon. Standing slowly, Castiel uses the desk to leverage himself to his feet. The motion jostles the mouse and the old monitor hums to life.

“What?” Confusion wraps tightly around his mind as the web page wiggles into view. He rarely ever uses his computer; the connection is slow, spotty at best. It takes him well over half an hour to send his supply request emails to Benny. He has zero interest in browsing the web on such an old and outdated device. He has zero interest in browsing the web, period. What the hell had he been doing last night?

Dread coils tight and low in his belly as he reads the heading on the website.  _ Hand&Paw _ : Forever Homes for the Packless Wolf; A matching service. Castiel sinks dumbfounded into his computer chair. Blindly he reaches out and scrolls down the page. The site is cozy and comforting, with photos of packs as small and large, all smiling in the not–so–candid photos, their testimonials and yearly check in’s visible for the world to see. Castiel can imagine how he must have felt looking through all the images, seeing the Alphas surrounded by their happy, healthy packs.

Vaguely, as though looking through a foggy window, he remembers the desperation, the loss, mourning his family, his pack, and choking on his envy of Benny. He’d never craved a pack of his own–to care for someone, anyone–as badly as he had last night, his wolf clawing at him. Anna’s voice in his head again, telling him to be happy, for them, if not for himself. To carry on, _for them_. He’d found himself booting up the ancient computer and starting his search. It had all been too much to resist. The longer Castiel drank, the more he read about placement procedures, all the testimonials from packless wolves, so happy to finally be under the care and protection of an Alpha again, to belong, the more Castiel desired what they had. 

He scrolls slowly, eyes wide in disbelief, those feelings from last night rising up to choke him, this time only slightly more manageable. As his cursor hits the bottom of the page, large friendly script announces: 

 

_ ‘Thank you for submitting your request, Alpha Novak. Once we complete our background check and confirm your Alpha ID code, we will begin the matching process. If successful, and a beta or omega with a compatible personality profile which matches your requirements is found, they will be sent to the coordinates you have provided. If you have any questions, do not hesitate to contact our support line.’ _

 

Castiel reads the little blurb again, and again, and again. He wouldn’t have done that, he just wouldn’t have. Panic crawls up his neck and heats his face. He switches over to his email and waits, gnawing at his thumbnail, as the page loads. Sure enough, there is a confirmation email from  _ Hand&Paw. _ It again thanks him for his request and provides a copy of his application.  

Reading over his request quiets some of his initial panic. He’s surprisingly coherent in his inebriated state, but there is no way this company is going to be able to find someone to meet his ridiculous demands. Let alone send a person out to the middle of nowhere which, when he double checks the coordinates he submitted, finds to only be slightly askew from where his cabin is. He sits for a long time staring at the screen, his headache slowly fading as his were-healing takes over. Finally, he makes a decision; he’s not fit to care for anyone. He deserves this exile. He had his chance and he… He just…can’t. He can’t go through feeling the bonds break again. He wouldn’t survive it, not this time, not without the blanket of fear and adrenaline he had last time.  

Hitting reply, Castiel punches out a terse apology and cancels his request, clicking send and flicking off the monitor before he can regret his actions even more.

Castiel spends the rest of the day outside, burying himself in work, preparing for the encroaching winter, anything to distract himself from last night. He finishes cleaning and butchering the buck, setting the pelt away for tanning, and begins properly preparing the meat for both smoking and storage. Nothing gets wasted; even the entrails get used for fishing bait in spring.  

There is an unsettled feeling in his body, a twitching just under his skin that makes him want to move. Hefting his ax, Castiel heads out into the forest with a small cart. He takes time to walk his territory, until the sun burns low towards the horizon before select an old rotten tree, one that needs to come down before the winter snows hit and it becomes a danger. His thoughts wander as his body goes through the repetitive motion—swing, stack, swing, stack. 

Maybe Anna is right, Castiel thinks. Maybe he should get a dog. A Wolf with a dog, like that makes any sense. And the thought is so surprising, creeps up on him so suddenly that Castiel barks a laugh. He must be exceptionally lonely if he–not only–keeps hallucinating his long-dead sister, but is now thinking about getting a dog. _A dog._

It’s not like the bond between human and animal could ever replace the gaping hole in his soul where the pack bond belong. It’s just another delusion, another way to prolong the inevitable. His slow, enevitable, decline into a feral wolf. 

At least he  _ was _ having delusions, hallucinating Anna's ghost, it made him feel slightly less alone. Not anymore though, as Anna said, he wouldn’t be seeing her anymore. Now, even his hallucinations are leaving him.  

Castiel stops chopping, his chest heaving. The ax slips from his fingers and lands heavily on the ground next to his leg. Eyes burning, he blinks them roughly, but a few tears slip free anyway. He thought he was long past mourning his family. And maybe he is, perhaps he’s mourning himself now. 

Off in the distance, a hawk cries sharp and shrill, cold. Castiel lifts his hands to scrub the sweat and tears from his face. Reaching for the ax again, he’s startled to find the small cart is full, piled high with neatly sectioned chunks of wood, and the tree is nothing but a stump in the dirt. He didn’t mean to cut that much, only to work the itch out from under his skin. Now he has a cart full of wood and still the restlessness crawls across his flesh.

Gathering his supplies, Castiel begins the arduous task of dragging the small cart back towards his cabin. It's heavy, and with fatigue clinging to his muscles, it's a slow, strenuous trek. What he wouldn’t give to sink into a nice hot bath. The walk back to his cabin is long and quiet with the newly cut wood dragging him down, and the moon is high overhead by the time he pulls into the small clearing. Dragging his weary form up onto the steps, he strips his clothing from his body, leaving them in a pile on the porch instead of folding it like he usually would. 

The change comes easy, his wolf clawing under his skin since he sent out the cancellation email. Denial and misery alive in his chest as his wolf cries out for a pack. Castiel springs from the porch, his body shifting before his front paws hit the ground. It’s a three-mile hike to the lake as a human, but he'll get there much faster on four legs rather than two. 

His paws pound along the dock before he realizes he’s reached the lake; the forty-five-minute hike bitten down to fifteen, and he launches himself off the end, shifting before he hits the water. It’s a shock to his system, crisp but not frosty, as it still retains some of the warmth from the summer sun.  

His muscles burn with fatigue as he swims, before dipping under to wash the sweat and dirt from his skin. He stays under the surface until his lungs burn and he's forced to tip up onto his back and float, letting the water hold him, just for a moment, to drift physically even if he can’t mentally.

The moon hangs heavy, pregnant and yellow in the sky. He will shift once it’s full and run the forest again, alone. No one to chase, to pin, to play, to come home to. No one to mark and scent and pile with. Benny’s pack doesn’t shift, very few wolves can fully turn anymore, but he still hears them responding to the call of the lunar cycle. They keep to the mountain on the other side of the valley. Never straying into his territory and he doesn’t go into theirs. It’s hard though, to listen to them howl in the distance. To know they are together.

The waters chill seeps into his bones, and it’s a long while before he pulls his waterlogged and exhausted body from the murky black depths. It takes him hours to wander sluggishly back to his cabin and collapse, shaggy-haired and cold skinned into his bed.


	4. Time and Illusions

The first frost hits mid-September, the forest is still and quiet. It’s oppressive, almost, as if the mountain is waiting for something, holding its breath. The hairs on the back of Castiel’s neck lift as he reaches out with his senses listening, feeling. He can’t put his finger on it, but something is different. Stripping off his clothes, he moves to the door of his cabin, pulling it open and studying the tree line. He waits. Waits with the mountain, holding his breath, he waits until his flesh pebbles, and all the hair on his arms and legs stands on end. He waits until his toes grow cold and his fingers prick numbly.

Shifting, he pads down his front steps on careful paws, out into the forest, cautious and slow. The trees stand like clawed beasts, their branches reaching, barren and sharp, towards the gray sky, familiar, yet foreign. The land feels strange under his paws, and Castiel can’t help but let out a low whine. He keeps his nose lifted to the chill wind, scenting, sensing. He remarks the boundary lines of his territory, looking for some familiarity. Confirmation that he's real, that he's here.

"Cassie... Castiel..." Anna's voice whispers to him on the wind, waking the ache in his chest with each creak of the tree branches overhead. He snorts roughly, forcing air out of his nose and drawing it back in sharply, searching for her scent. But it's not there, just like Anna, she's never there.

Constantly alert, something crawls–alive with unease–under his skin. It makes him antsy, panting out of his maw, panic squirming along the edges of his mind. He scars the trees with his claws, rubs over the marks with his neck and jaw, eyes wary, ears perked. He spends all day on the mountain, but nothing moves, nothing comes. Nothing ever happens.

He goes to bed restless with a craving for something he does not know alive in his belly.

 

The first snow comes on the heels of the harvest moon. Castiel spends it shifted sitting on his porch watching the forest line. He doesn’t run his territory; he doesn’t move for hours, a statue enslaved to his senses. Apprehension curls like a snake, tight and low at the base of his spine.

Nothing comes, no one is coming.

Weeks fade as September blurs into October; the snow falls again, thicker. A blanket of white wraps his mountainside. The winter quiet descends heavy on his ears. Castiel spends the day using his wolf form to plow small trails, in the endless sea of white, keeping his paths open and accessible. He checks the well and pumps for his water, making sure the insulation holds, and his piping won’t freeze solid as the days grow colder.

He spends the nights watching the sky. The mountain air in the winter is clear and thin, the stars shine bright, winking down at him, and he feels small. Insignificant. Unimportant. _Alone_.

 

Anna doesn’t come to him anymore. He's lonely for her ghost, but no, even his hallucinations have left him. October slips, slow and heavy like molasses, into November.

He wakes early, before the sun, a twitchiness to his limbs, an itch in the center of his palms, spreading out until he can't sit still. He cleans, scouring the rough wood floorboards of the cabin until they are smooth and glow warmly under fresh varnish. He pulls the sheets from his bed and then, just for good measure, the bed in the second room. It’s not a guest room; he doesn’t have guests. He washes them thoroughly and hangs them in the storeroom by his wood stove, to dry before fitting new sheets and blankets on the beds. He fights the strange urge to put extra blankets out and shakes his pillows roughly, instead, fluffing the misshapen lumps into welcoming mounds.  

He takes the carpet from the small living room outside and beats the crap out of it, standing, panting in a cloud of dirt and dust. The physical activity brings some semblance of calm to his mind. He’s breathing heavy, wiping sweat from his brow, when he notices the windows are dirty, thick lines of grime obscuring the glass. He’s on his way to take care of those when the second step complains loudly as he treads on it, and he sets aside time to replace it before any more rot can set in.  

He keeps active, his mind disconnected from what he’s doing, his wolf preening for some unclear reason as he steps back and admires the slightly less downtrodden look of his home. It’s almost welcoming now, resembling a tiny cabin in the woods more than a ramshackle hut. The sun is steadily heading for the horizon while he shovels the snow drifts back off the deck, clearing the path to his storage shed and smokehouse one last time. The sky overhead darkens quickly, the clouds thick and ominous when he finally sets the shovel aside, thunder crackling in the distance. He can taste the snow in the air, and he knows that it’s going to be a bad storm. Taking a fresh stack of wood, he resecures the cover over the pile and stumbles—sweaty and exhausted—back into the cabin.  

The carpet is back in its spot, covering the rough wooden floor again. Its plush fibers glow warmly under the light of his fireplace. Castiel tosses a fresh log on the fire, and it pops with a joy Castiel can’t seem to find inside of himself. At that thought, he sets his jaw and turns his back on the merry sight.

He slumps into the main room after a long cold shower, relishing in the shiver that’s settled on his skin, chasing away the activity of the day. He drags the thick wool blanket off the back of his worn sofa and wraps it around his shoulders, flopping down on the carpet. He curls up, letting the heat of the fire and the rough scratch of the blanket lull him to a restless sleep.

He dreams of running—paws pounding, body flying—through the woods. The air is cold and scorches his lungs, his chest burning but he is not afraid. Ahead of him, he hears a rough bark. It’s laughter; deep, rumbling laughter. Castiel chases it, lurching forward, his wolf crying out happy yips, as he pursues the shadow darting just out of his reach.

He runs all the while knowing that what he chases he’ll never catch. Castiel runs for it anyway, his body light, his mind free. He lifts his maw to the clear night sky and howls. And there, just on the edge of the trees, he hears it, the response, deep and long. Castiel’s wolf surges with joy.

Somewhere in the back of his conscious mind, Castiel knows that this dream will hurt him when he wakes. That this dream is his psyche playing tricks on him. Anything to ease the lonely ache, the broken bonds that lay like barbed wire under his skin. There is no shadowed figure running just out of his reach. There is no responding howl to his alpha’s call. But still he runs, he dreams, he scents the air and tastes apples on his tongue, honeysuckle and cedar fill his lungs. And he chases it.

He wakes fully shifted, ears lifted, nose twitching. The fire burns low in its grate; it’s warmth intangible. Something is different. Castiel can feel it. He stands slowly, eyes fixed on the door of his cabin, head tilting, each step he takes towards it is hesitant, cautious. Something is off; something is _new_. Excitement curls low in his stomach, battling with fear and uncertainty. Something is here to break the monotony of his life.

Maybe a bear has wandered into his territory, or perhaps a moose even? He could go for a rousing spar with another large predator. Usually, his scent and markings are a good enough deterrent as wild animals naturally avoid Were lands. He butts the top of his head against the small panel next to the door, releasing the click latch and stepping to the side so the door can swing open. Padding out onto the deck, his ears flick, the forest sounds swell as he comes to a stop on the first step. It’s been so quiet, so unnervingly quiet for weeks. Now though there is a subtle shift in the air, a hushed disturbance moving steadily closer. It sounds like a cacophony to his sensitive ears.

There is a heartbeat. It throbs, quick with the strain of exertion. Not like an animal. No, it’s human. A human heartbeat. Castiel dances on his paws, a low whine leaving his throat. The apprehension he’s been feeling for weeks unfurls in his gut, hot and thick.  

Someone is coming.

Their feet stomp, heavily crunching through the snow. At the pace they are traveling they will hit the northwest side of the clearing in roughly forty minutes. It’s obvious, as the sounds grow louder that the owner of the melodic heartbeat is not used to traipsing through four and a half feet of snow. Castiel doesn’t know how long he stands on the deck, listening as the muffled sound of cursing begins to accompany the steady crunch of snow. How long he stands listening to the beautiful beating of their heart. Someone is coming, and when he scents the air, he finds a subtle, hint of cedar and something sweet that he can’t put his finger on. Not a human then, but a wolf. His excitement suddenly drains from him. _Someone is coming_.

 _Why?_ Why is someone coming? Why brave these treacherous woods? Why now, when winter is laying its claws in deep? Why come out so far and... on foot?

Dread constricts his lungs, each breath turning heavy, like lead in his throat, and he slowly backs into the cabin. It can’t be, it can’t. Turning, he darts through the door, shifting back to his human form as he runs for the ancient computer. There is only one reason someone would come this far. A mistake. It  _can’t_ be.

Castiel’s bare feet skid across the floor as he comes to a stop by the old computer, bashing the button on the monitor he wiggles the mouse to get it to boot up faster. The screen fades from black to blue, to beige as the last thing he’d opened comes into focus. His email, specifically the cancellation email he’d sent to _Hand &Paw_. An involuntary whine escapes his throat. There it is, sitting in his outbox, unsent, undelivered; mocking him.

_Connection error. Message not sent. Please click to try again._

His ears burn with the sound of the stranger’s heartbeat, growing ever louder, ever closer. Castiel can’t focus on anything else; it fills his mind, drowning out his other senses, the steady _badump-badump._ He pushes the power button on the monitor again and staggers dumbly to his room. _Badump-badump_ –Castiel pulls out a pair of worn jeans and slips a long sleeve henley over his head. _Badump-Badump_ –he wanders back out through the main room, stopping numbly to lift the wool blanket from the floor and set it back over his couch.  

This is happening. He can almost hear Anna’s gleeful laughter as if this is some big prank she’s playing on him. Always finding a way to get him to do exactly what she wants. His breath catches in his throat. There is no turning back now, whoever it is that’s made it out this far will have to stay the rest of winter. He can taste another storm in the air, the snow that’s coming makes his tongue cold and stiff, rain and sleet and ice. Worse than anything so far, and anyone who tries to brave it will surely die; wolf or not.  

Someone is coming, and they will have to stay. Castiel will have to care for them, protect them. He’s not ready… He stalls in his open door, fingers gripping onto the frame as stares at the tree line.

Someone is coming. Someone is answering his call.


	5. Dean

“ _ Sonovabitch _ !”

The expletive reaches his ears moments before the snapping of a tree branch and the form of a man comes tumbling out of the woods into the snowed in clearing. Castiel lurches out of the door and down onto the porch, stumbling to the railing that runs the edge of the deck and watches as the man face plants into the snow.

Before Castiel can react, the man gets to his knees, cursing gruffly and slapping his shoulders. He ruffles his hair to dislodge the snow caught there. His eyes scan the clearing, and when they land on the little cabin, his frustrated expression spreading into a dazzling smile. Castiel cannot look away; even from a distance, the man is beautiful. Castiel’s heart kicks up in his chest, beating against his ribcage. With renewed vigor, the man surges to his feet and fights his way through the snow towards the deck, panting heavily, steam rising from his moist, cherry red bitten lips. 

He’s sweating from his trek, his sandy brown hair sticking up at odd angles. His scent is overpowering from exertion; spiced apples, sweet honeysuckle,  _ omega _ . Castiel shifts, bare feet cold against the deck as the man smiles up at him. A whine catches in his throat, his wolf demanding Castiel go to him, scoop him up and bury his nose against the soft skin of the omega’s neck. Instead, he digs his fingers into the wood of the deck railing, forcing himself to stay rooted to the spot.

The omega has a backpack on his shoulders, as well as an army green duffle bag slung across his chest, it hangs low, bumping heavily against his thigh as he moves. Surprisingly the top of a battered old guitar case just visible from behind his right ear. He looks… pleased as he comes to a stop by the bottom step. His expression is bright and full of life as he leans against the railing, breathing heavily. He closes his eyes, breaking eye contact with Castiel for the first time since he fell out of the woods, and slowly draws a deep breath. Castiel flushes when he realizes the man is scenting him. 

“Quite a hike!” He says brightly, his eyes opening, voice lower than his youthful face would imply. There’s a shiver in his words. The bottom of his duffle bag is soaked through from dragging in the snow as he walks. Castiel can’t believe what he’s seeing; he isn’t even sure how to react.  His mouth falls open, but no words come; he can’t seem to be able to sling two rational thoughts together, let alone find his voice.

“Oh!” The man says, fidgeting, his shoulders trembling slightly as he reaches into the pocket of his weathered leather jacket–a jacket certainly not fit for trekking through the mountain woods–to pull out a worn and battered piece of paper. He unfolds it, and Castiel can tell, by the deep creases and almost fabric-like quality it has now, that he’s done this many times before. “Cas… uh, Novak?” he runs trembling blue-tipped fingers over the printed text like it holds something sacred. “You, uh, s-s-sent for me?” 

The omega licks his lips, clutching the paper as he looks up at Castiel, waiting. Castiel shuffles under that green gaze, feet dragging across the cold wooden planks. His mouth works, opening and closing but his throat is dry, and he has to fight past a lump for his words. The longer the silence drags on, the more the bright smile slips from the man’s face. The omega sniffles, his nose as red as his cheeks from the cold.

“I, uh. I k-k-know I’m probably n-n-not what you expected,” he shivers, folding the paper up and clutching it tightly. He looks sad, his scent sharpening. He breaks eye contact and looks over his shoulder back the way he came. A shiver wracks his frame, and Castiel’s hands clench around the banister, wanting to touch him, to run his palms over this man’s chilled skin until it’s flushed and warm again. 

“L-l-look. Just let me w-w-warm up a bit and I-I-I’ll head b-b-back down the mountain.” The omega manages, his breath a puff of steam in the air, he wraps his long arms around his torso, guarded, turning resigned eyes on Castiel.

The thought of this gorgeous man leaving him, of sending him back down the mountain breaks something in Castiel. He’s moving, prying his fingers from the indents he’s made in the banister and shuffling down the front steps. 

“No.” Castiel rumbles and part of him is pleased with the way the omega’s eyes go wide and his chin tips up ever so slightly to expose the long column of his throat. “No, come…. come inside. It’s far too dangerous,” his throat aches from disuse, and the more he speaks, the more the omega’s cheeks redden. Castiel reaches out and lifts the duffle bag over the omega’s head, surprised at how heavy it is. 

With a small sweep of his arm, Castiel instructs the omega to follow him, he lurches forward, sighing softly, his shy smile returning. Castiel shuffles back up the steps, unable to take his eyes from the other man, lest he becomes just another hallucination. Castiel hugs the duffle tight to his chest like it’s tangible proof this isn’t all happening in his mind and watches as the omega lifts his foot and drops it heavily on the bottom step. His reaction to this man stepping into Castiel's space, the core of his territory, is immediate. The knot of tension that's steadily formed in his chest over the past few moments unfurls, low and hot in his stomach, his body relaxing, muscles uncoiling as the omega follows him. 

“I’m D-D-Dean,” the man shivers, looking around the small cabin as Castiel closes the door behind them. He pauses,  _ Dean _ , his omega’s name is Dean. “G-g-going for that one room family style vibe, huh? I l-l-like it.” Dean’s eyes move from the kitchen to the small wooden dining table to the living room all taking up the front portion of the cabin. Dean’s breathing is slow, each breath drawn in deeply through his nose. Already his eyelids are drooping, shoulders slumping. The cabin's infused with Castiel’s rich alpha scent, and it seems to relax the omega. A small flare of pride fills Castiel’s chest. 

“Yes,” Castiel responds, watching Dean from the corner of his eye as he sets the omega’s duffle bag down. Dean licks his lips, ears pinkening. He carefully sets down the guitar case and then shrugs off his backpack. “Warmed, um, warmed up,” Castiel manages the words feeling foreign in his mouth as he struggles to get over his shock of Dean’s appearance. “Let’s get you warmed up.” He grumbles, reaching out to help Dean remove his jacket. 

The omega pants, lips parting, his eyelids drooping as Castiel steps into his space. He wants to wrap his arms around Dean, pull him in and let his body warm the omega. Instead, he carefully skirts his fingers over chilled collarbones to push the leather coat from Dean’s frame. It takes everything in his power not to lean in and scent along Dean's neck.

“Thanks,” Dean says, dropping down to pull his battered boots from his feet. They’re soaked through. His jeans are clinging to him where they’re drenched all the way up to mid-thigh. Dean blushes, his chin tucking towards his chest. Castiel follows his gaze, seeing his big toe poking out from the front of his left sock. Dean curls his toes slightly to hide the wear.

“How long were you walking?” Castiel asks as he guides Dean over to the fire.

Dean flops down onto the rug, closest to the hearth, and runs his hands through the fibers breathing deeply. He groans softly, a pained sort of sound from overusing one’s muscles. He’s unresisting to Castiel’s gentle guidance as he stretches his legs out, angling his feet and hands towards the fire. 

“Since early this morning. I got into town around four am and just started hiking. No one in a small town like Gray Valley is ever up that early. I swear it looked like one of those little snowy ceramic villages grandma’s put out at Christmas time. All dark windows and snowy rooftops.” Dean yawns, his jaw cracking “I didn’t know where to start looking for help. But I know how to read a map, and I knew the coordinates for where I was headed...” He pulls his knees towards his chest, resting his chin on them, voice going soft, “So I just went, right up the mountain, probably not the best idea with the storm coming in. Didn’t realize how far I was going to have to go, got lost a few times, too,” he yawns again, “but I made it.” 

Dean’s voice is fading with fatigue. Castiel stands from where he’s crouching next to him and grabs the wool blanket off the couch. Carefully, he drapes it over Dean’s shoulders. The omega sighs deeply, his head tipping, his cheek resting atop his bent knees. Dean lifts his shoulder to snuffle his nose into the ruffles of the blanket. “... I made it to you, Alpha.”

The muffled title sends a shiver down Castiel’s spine, and he’s compelled to touch the omega, reassure him. He combs his hand through Dean’s sandy brown hair. The strands look silky but are rough and oily. His scent is heavy, and Castiel frowns. 

“Yes,” he murmurs. “Yes, you did.”

Fatigue makes Dean's smile slow to spread, he breathes deeply, eyelids drooping, leaning to the side as he gives in to his exhaustion and slumber. Carefully, Castiel guides him down to the rug so he can curl up under the blanket next to the fire. Dean hums, turning his nose towards the rug and gently rubbing the tip into the soft fibers breathing Castiel’s scent in with a soft huff. 

Just this small act of settling the omega instantly satisfies his alpha. It’s a strange feeling, like the two broken halves of his mind and soul are finally lining up. Castiel is tempted to stay with Dean all night, or at least until he wakes again. Just to watch the rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps, just to know he’s real, and here, and Castiel’s to care for. Dean shifts his body, curling in on itself, and he shivers, whimpering softly.

Castiel stands abruptly, the need to care, shelter, provide, coursing through him, but it is surprisingly difficult to leave Dean’s side. The urge to pile with him, to curl up around his trembling body is powerful. But he goes because Dean should not remain in his soaked clothes. 

Picking up Dean’s bags, Castiel moves them to the spare bedroom. Not a spare anymore, but Dean’s, _Dean’s bedroom_. Setting the bags down, he rifles through them and finds that all the clothes Dean brought are saturated, just like the bag and all its other contents. Shoving the duffle aside, Castiel strides across the hall to his bedroom, rifling through his drawers and pulling out a thick pair of sweatpants and a faded gray sweatshirt.

He slips back into the living area and kneels at Dean’s side. Dean has rolled onto his stomach, face pressing into the rug, fingers curled, clinging. Soft little whines leave his parted lips on each exhale, and Castiel wonders how long it’s been since Dean’s had an alpha around. 

With gentle hands, Castiel rolls Dean onto his back. He works quickly, as to not rouse the other man from his slumber. It’s difficult to remain disengaged from the feel of Dean’s chilled skin, soft and smooth and inviting. As he lifts Dean’s torso, cradling it against his chest, and peels the shirt from his body, it’s hard to be clinical, to fight the urge to drop his chin and rub along Dean’s cheek, especially when the man’s fresh scent blooms in the air. It’s perfection, light and sweet but savory, and Castiel swallows hard over a surge of saliva. Has to focus on not letting his sudden and burgeoning arousal color his scent. 

He bites his lip, the sharp pain a welcome distraction. Dean smells so good, and Castiel wonders that if he’d spent more of his adult life around other wolves, would his reaction to Dean would be this visceral? He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. There’s no way to know; he’ll just have to try to maintain control over himself, no matter how his body is reacting to the unique bouquet of pheromones Dean is putting out.

Setting aside Dean’s threadbare t-shirt, Castiel pauses, closing his eyes tightly and taking the smallest breath he can, before opening them again. Dean is lovely, all broad shoulders and well-defined arms, freckles dotting his pale skin, and with a soft groan, and more self-control that he thought he had, Castiel forces his eyes away from the rosy pink flush of Dean’s nipples. The omega shifts, one arm twitching at his side and gives a small whimper in his sleep. 

Right. Castiel forces himself back on track. Reaching for the hoodie, he lifts Dean’s shoulders from the floor, cradling him carefully, Castiel's fingers running over a deep pockmark on Dean’s back. Curiously, he leans around, tracing the shape with his fingertips as his eyes settle on a jagged scar. Lifting Dean farther, Castiel doesn’t even try to suppress the low growl that erupts from his throat. Dean’s back is littered with bite marks, tiny silver cuts, and long jagged scars. Castiel's hand flexes, and Dean shifts slowly, further exposing the mess of scarred skin on his back. 

Dean whines softly, a sound meant to soothe his alpha, turning slowly and lowering his head as he wakes up. He goes supplicant, or at least he tries to. His body remains tight-limbed, and Castiel isn’t sure if he’s ready to fight or flee. His neck exposed, belly to the ground, eyes down-cast, fear and anger turning his scent acrid. Castiel realizes his mistake, his growl cutting off abruptly as he jolts forward, an abortive move stopping at the sound of Dean's broken voice.

“I—I know,” Dean whispers, body shivering. “I know I’m not what you wanted, what you asked for. I know I’m hideous, but I… I’m hardworking. I’m strong.”

“Dean…” Castiel hushes him, and Dean immediately falls quiet. His flinch and how he curls in on himself do not go unnoticed, but Castiel presses on, softly, “This, this is not your fault. I am not angry at you; I’m angry at whoever did this to you.” Castiel reaches out and drags his fingertips over a mark on Dean’s shoulder blade. Dean flinches away, back curving to avoid Castiel’s touch.

Frowning, Castiel makes a promise to himself, his wolf, and to Dean; they will do better. He will protect this man as others have failed to do. He will protect Dean in every way he can. He will not fail Dean. As others have so obviously done.

Dean lifts his head slowly as the anger leaves Castiel’s scent. It’s the first time Castiel notices how thin he is. Each knob of Dean’s spine is visible; the sharp angles of his shoulder blades, the outlines of his ribs. Castiel will shelter this man, care for him, feed him until he is plush and soft, give him whatever he needs to lift the acrid scent of burning cedar from his skin. Castiel never wants to smell Dean’s fear again.

“May I?” Castiel asks, holding the hoodie out between them.

“Yes,” Dean rasps, lifting his chest from the floor and settling onto his knees. Castiel helps Dean into it, savoring the soft feeling of his skin. How anyone could hurt Dean, Castiel will never comprehend. 

“I’ll protect you,” he promises, eyes locking on Dean as Dean’s head pops through the neck of the hoodie. Dean’s eyes are wide in disbelief before they narrow slowly. Of course, he’d be skeptical. They barely know one another, yet Castiel is resolute. His wolf purrs with determination. 

“I will prove myself to you. That you are safe here,” Castiel says. 

Dean blinks once, eyes sharp, clearly trying to sense the lie in Castiel’s words, if there is an uptick in his heartbeat. But there isn’t one; Castiel isn’t lying, and Dean slowly softens before him. Beautiful in his relief.  

Biting his lip, Castiel makes a decision. Moving before he can change his mind, he slips his wrist inside the hood and rubs his pulse point against Dean’s cheek, down his jaw, and along his neck, scent-marking him. “I’ll protect you,” he repeats, firmer. 

Dean’s small smile and faint blush send heat swooping low in Castiel’s stomach. It is apparently the right decision to make. They are both looking for a place to call home, and scent-marking Dean so early on will only make that transition easier. He can do this. Castiel can be a good alpha for this omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by the _wonderful_ [@Thedogsled.](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/) Please give them a follow and shower them in the love they deserve <3


	6. Monster

After Castiel scent-marks him, Dean sleeps, right there on the floor, curled up by the fire. Dean is exhausted from his travels and weak from malnutrition. He’s too thin, his hair shiny with grease, and the dark circles below his eyes are clearly from more than a few restless nights. It’s difficult to be away from Dean for long. He is afraid, Castiel realizes, of being alone again, left on the mountainside to rot like he’s been for all these years. His wolf pushes him, and he continuously finds himself wandering back towards Dean’s sleeping form. Castiel has things to do, to prepare now that Dean is here, but his instincts to protect and care are hard to ignore. 

Eventually, Castiel comes to a decision: there is no reason for Dean to sleep on the floor—even if Castiel is prone to doing the same at times—not when there is a perfectly good bed in the spare room. And there is certainly no reason for Dean to remain in his sodden clothing. Were’s might not get sick like humans do, but being uncomfortable is a universal trait. 

Carefully, he strips Dean’s jeans off. They are still damp and cold from the calves down. The material is old, stained in places, and rubbed thin in others. A few scars mar his muscular thighs, and Castiel is careful not to let his anger rise again. He slips Dean’s legs into the sweatpants, watching as Dean shifts and rolls over. When it becomes clear Dean will not rouse again, Castiel lifts him, carrying him to the spare bedroom where he tucks him in, wrapping him under layers of blankets. Transporting the younger man makes Castiel painfully aware of just how thin Dean is.

And if he spends a few moments standing on the threshold watching the slow rise and fall of Dean’s chest before he retreats to his room, no one will ever know. Sleep comes easily to him as he settles down in bed, the sound of another heartbeat a soothing balm to his senses.

Pleasure curls low and tight in his stomach as Castiel slowly surfaces from sleep. His hips roll, pressing down into the softness of his mattress and he whimpers around his dropped incisors. The urge to bite and claim thrums through his veins. His cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, the faint scent of Dean’s greasy hair still lingering on his fingers. He presses them against his face, drinking in the warm scent. It’s early, and as Castiel listens he hears the melodic beating of Dean’s heart as he sleeps in the next room. Yesterday was real. There’s another were in his home. Castiel moans low in his throat.

This never happens to him, but then again, he’s hasn't been around another wolf, let alone an omega since he presented many years ago. His hips falter, and he slips his hand down between his body and the bed. Castiel grips his cock, pleasure shooting up his spine; he stifles a groan into his pillow. His room saturated with alpha arousal. It’s wrong, these feelings, his actions. He needs to put a stop to them.

Rolling to his back Castiel bites his knuckle as he gives his cock a pump, pleasure curling his toes. This isn’t good. He has to regain control. His fingers still flex, spasming around his cock, and he bites out a harsh breath. The pleasure tingles under his skin. He can’t help it, he wants more, so much more.

His mind skitters, assaulting him with thoughts of how Dean would feel if he woke on his first day to the cabin reeking of Castiel’s alpha arousal, of an alpha orgasm. It would put a strain on their newly forming relationship. Slowly, he pries his hand from his cock. The last thing Castiel wants is for Dean to think he’s lured the handsome omega out to the middle of the woods to be his sex slave. 

The thought is like cold water running down his spine. His arousal fades, his cock softening against his stomach. Slowly, he stands from the bed, his thighs tense from unspent energy. He pauses listening carefully, but Dean’s steady heartbeat tells him the omega is still asleep. Castiel strips his sleep clothes off and climbs out of his bedroom window, shifting before his feet hit the ground, sprinting for the lake. 

It’s not quite frozen yet, and he can’t think of a better way to thoroughly kill his arousal than to plunge his body into it’s freezing depths. He hits the end of the deck and shifts from his wolf to his human skin as he dives through the air. The cold bite of the water shocks his system. At least by the time he makes it back to the cabin, his room will be aired out, and he will smell like lake water and wilderness. Castiel doesn’t understand his lack of control, why his wolf continually prowls the back of his mind, pacing agitated, pushing him towards Dean. 

He’s never had a reaction like this to Benny or his wife Andrea in all the years he’s known them. In fact, Castiel can’t remember a time when he’s reacted this strongly to any wolf–or human. He doesn’t understand! Why Dean? What is so special about this wolf, this omega? His mind goes blissfully blank with shock as he dives, shifting before he hits the water.

An hour later, he’s standing at the stove in a t-shirt and sweatpants, flipping a peanut butter pancake, bacon sizzling in the next pan, when Dean stumbles into the room. He’s bleary-eyed, tugging the gray hoodie tighter around his body. Castiel’s feels his wolf perk up, tail wagging at the sight and he grimaces. He needs to get himself under control.

“Smells good.” Dean grunts, as he sidles up next to Castiel, looking very much like a ruffled kitten. “Got any coffee?”

Castiel finds himself leaning towards the sleep-warmed omega, Dean’s scent of soft contentment washing over Castiel. He wants to roll around in it, rub against Dean until their scents mix. And they would mix, Castiel’s wolf pushes him, convincing him that their scents would blend beautifully because Dean is made for them. The thought startles him, and with the spatula, he points to a small french press, the brown liquid inside hot and ready for consumption.

With a little moan—that decidedly does not make Castiel’s ears burn—Dean shuffles around him, warm fingers gently sweeping along Castiel’s bare forearm before pulling a mug from the dish rack. 

Leaning over the little spout Dean breathes in the fresh aroma. He gives a soft whimper, and Castiel nearly drops the spatula he’s holding. Even over all the smells of breakfast, Dean’s scent—alluring, enticing, so very tempting—overwhelms them all.

Turning back to the pancakes, Castiel frowns. He’d requested a beta in his email, someone hard-working, familiar with the outdoors, comfortable with the quiet. Someone he could grow an attachment to over time, in case it didn’t work out. A fail-safe so they could each casually go their separate ways without the devastating damage a scent bond can cause. At least with a beta, the bond would grow slowly, form over weeks, months, before cementing. Though, to be honest, Castiel isn’t even sure of that fact. He has no experience with any of this, only what he’s read in books and journals. He has no idea if bonds with betas form more slowly than with omegas. 

What he is sure of, is that there is a spot carved out of his chest that only aches when he’s away from Dean. That his whole body relaxes when the air is infused with Dean’s scent, that the distinct thrum of Dean’s heart is the lullaby he’s been missing all of his life.

As his eyes settle on Dean, who has turned to face him with one hip leaning against the counter, hugging the coffee mug in both hands, the sleeves of his sweatshirt so long only the tips of his fingers poke out, Castiel knows there will be no easy way out if Dean decides to leave with the first thaw. 

Already, Castiel can feel the pull in his chest, the drive to wrap the omega up in his arms, curl his body around him and ensure that no harm ever comes to him again. To bathe the man in his scent. Having Dean in his hoodie and sweatpants does help. When Dean takes a sip of the brew, his eyelashes flutter and his full lips part with a sigh. Castiel quickly looks away, focusing on the meal he is preparing before his arousal can get the best of him. 

He needs to run, even after this morning's dip in the lake, his newly awakened sex drive is oppressive, and the last thing he wants to do is scare Dean with his desires. He clears his throat roughly, still getting used to speaking regularly.

“Sit,” he says, his voice a rusty whisper, pointing at the sturdy wooden table with his spatula. Dean blinks slowly, his pupils expanding, before shuffling over to the table and plopping into a chair. Castiel plates his food and brings it over to him. “I hope you like peanut butter,” he rasps as Dean looks up from the plate to meet his eyes. There is a faint ring of gold around his irises, and it makes Castiel’s alpha purr warmly in his chest. “I want to give you filling, protein rich-meals. You are too thin; the winter will be more difficult for you. I will do everything in my power to ensure you put on weight.” Talking this much makes his throat ache.

Dean frowns up at him. He fiddles with his fork before nodding. His scent sours slightly, cedar notes of failure tinting the air. Castiel opens his mouth to tell Dean his weight is not his fault, but Dean stabs his fork into the first buttery, syrupy pancake and shoves it into his mouth, puffing out his cheeks. His eyes roll back, and he groans loudly, his scent rapidly changing to contentment. 

Castiel’s spine goes ramrod straight, a very human reaction to his alpha clawing to life inside of him. It’s a new sensation, the pleasure that expands in his chest like a balloon. It warms him to his core when he cares for Dean, sets everything right, makes the world fuzzy and soft on its edges. Castiel's fingers itch to run through the mop of limp, greasy hair at the top of Dean’s head. He wants to run his scent glands over Dean’s skin and mingle their aromas until he cannot tell where he ends and Dean begins. 

The desire is frightening. Castiel forces himself into action, heading for the door before he does something stupid. His hand closes around the knob when Dean distracts him.

“You’re not going to eat with me?” he asks, voice rough but soft, unsure in a way that makes Castiel’s hackles rise. The drive to protect Dean has his hands convulsing around the knob.

“Not today. Eat your fill.” He pulls the door open, the winter wind slapping him in the face. Every instinct tells him to go back, to hand feed his omega until his stomach is bloated and he’s purring with contentment. He battles against himself because this not what Dean needs. Castiel thinks of the bite marks on Dean's back and growls. He won't be another overbearing alpha enforcing their demented desires onto him. Castiel yanks the door closed behind him, sheds his clothes, and shifts before the safety latch clicks. 

The ground pounds under his paws for hours. He marks the outermost edges of his territory again, digging his claws in deep and rubbing his jaw and neck against the frozen bark until his scent hangs in the icy air. He runs until his lungs ache and his limbs tremble until his nose is so cold the air stings it, and then he runs some more. 

Whatever scent trail Dean left on his way to Castiel, has been dredged clean from his territory by the wet biting wind, though he easily finds the staggering, winding path Dean cut through the snow the night before. Castiel takes his time following Dean’s path, long passed the sun cresting noon and slinking back towards the horizon, the days shortening as the winter deepens. 

Flopping on the deck hours later, Castiel closes his eyes and listens to Dean moving around inside the cabin. It’s soothing, the second heartbeat, the steady padding of his bare feet on the wood floors. For the first time in a long time, Castiel is not alone. His body is weary from trekking the mountain, but as an alpha able to full-shift, Castiel's thick fur and elevated temperature keep him warm in the frigid air. Before he realizes it, he’s succumbing to the soothing rhythm of Dean’s heartbeat. His eyes slide closed. His breathing slows and syncs with the soft rhythm resonating from inside the cabin.

The sound of the front door being yanked open, followed by a muffled curse, has Castiel rolling wildly, limbs flailing, paws scrabbling against the wood as he clambers ungainly to his feet.

“Holy shit.” 

Castiel’s ears twitch and drop flat to his skull. He cautiously steps backward, away from Dean, towards the forest, a soft distressed whine escaping his throat. He’s never shifted in front of another person, wolf or otherwise. He knows it’s a rare ability. Only the oldest lineages are still able to do it, and the Novak pack is one of them. He steels himself for Dean’s rejection, for the taint of revulsion that so often comes with the prejudice for those who can full-shift. Unnatural, dangerous, more beast than man. 

“No, no, no,” Dean soothes, going to his knees on the threshold, his hand extended, breaching the space Castiel put between them.

Castiel’s eyes flick up to look at the other man, confused. He scents the air. Dean smells calm, sweet, even a little intrigued. There is no fear or disgust in his expression. If anything, Castiel finds wonder in the wide-eyed look Dean is giving him, in the slightly astonished parting of his lips. 

“You can full-shift,” he breathes, and Castiel can’t help but step towards him, unable to resist the pull of that outstretched hand. “You’re wolf is… amazing,” Dean says, breath leaving his lips in a cloud of vapor. He reaches up and sinks his fingers into the fur between Castiel’s eyes, sliding them up over his skull. “You’re a real wolf… a really huge wolf,” he laughs. A manic sort of mirth bubbles up from inside of him, so fiercely Castiel can smell it.

Stepping closer, he leans into the circle of Dean’s arms as the omega drops his head into the fur along Castiel’s neck, brow resting on his shoulder. The feeling of Dean’s long, strong fingers scraping through his fur sends shivers over Castiel’s skin, and he dips his head to run the flat of his tongue over the scant flash of skin exposed at the curve of Dean’s neck. 

In his wolf form, Castiel is large, roughly the size of a juvenile bear and he towers over Dean’s kneeling form. Dean shivers, pulling Castiel closer, his arms lifting, fingers knitting into the fur between his shoulders, tugging. Castiel can’t help the subvocal rumble as Dean presses his face against Castiel's neck, rubbing, where Castiel’s scent is most potent and melting more deeply against him. 

He’s puzzled at Dean’s reaction. It’s certainly out of the ordinary, but he can’t bring himself to step away. It’s been so long since someone has touched him like this. Dean runs his fingers deep into Castiel’s fur, clinging unabashedly holding him close, like Castiel matters, like he’s important. 

It’s not until he smells the salt in the air that Castiel realizes something is wrong. With a soft whine, he nudges Dean with his snout, pressing the cool, wet tip of his nose against the man's shoulder. Dean fights him, rubbing his face into Castiel’s neck more firmly, and while that would normally make him extremely happy—as the action smothers Dean in Castiel's scent—his concern outweighs his enjoyment. 

Using his flank, Castiel presses against Dean, making the younger man tumble gently back into the cabin. He follows Dean’s now prone form back into the warmth of the cabin and pushes the door closed with his rear paw, continuing to press Dean back until he lays flat. Castiel leans one sizeable front paw on Dean’s chest and gently licks the salty tears from the corners of his eyes. Dean’s breath stutters, his broad hands wrapping around Castiel’s front leg as his lips quirk up into a small smile.

“Ok, ok.” Dean shifts, his fingers sliding until they dig into the fur just behind Castiel’s ears, stroking there. “Not exactly how I saw our first kiss going, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Castiel’s eyes go wide, forcing out a sharp breath. His ears flick, and he quickly steps back from Dean, sitting down on his haunches beside Dean’s hip. He tilts his head to the side. Hearing that Dean has thought about them kissing has his stomach tying in knots. Dean rises to his elbows, and the long, lean line of his body stretched out beside Castiel’s is tempting. He’s everything Castiel wants and its frightening how much that thought doesn’t scare him. But, in this form, with his wolf on the surface running on scent and instinct,  it’s harder to fight against the urge to take Dean, to press down against him and please him, to claim him and keep him, ensure that no one will ever make him feel like this again. Instead, he huffs—a questioning sound—and leans down to lap at Dean’s flushed cheek. His skin is soft and warm with the barest hints of stubble, and it makes his wolf purr.

“What’s with the waterworks?” Dean interprets because his omega is smart and cunning. “Stupid… omega hormones, you know?” Dean slides his eyes away like it doesn’t matter, but his scent is full of anxiety.

Castiel snaps his jaws, teeth clicking, and grumbles softly.  _ No lies _ , he thinks, ears flicking. There is no reason for Dean to be lying to him.

“Ok, fuck.” Dean sighs, pulling his knees towards his chest. His green eyes flick up to Castiel’s, shadowed by the dark expanse of his thick lashes; they seem to glow in the evening firelight. “I...ugh this is so dumb... I just... feel safe. You know?” Dean licks his lips, and Castiel tracks the motion. “You’re the kind of wolf moms tell their pups about. The reason we don’t stray from our packs, don’t go into the woods at night, keep close to our alpha’s during the full moons. You’re the stuff of legends and nightmares.”

Castiel gives a little whine; this was what he was waiting for. For Dean to reject him. He doesn't deserve this, doesn't deserve Dean. Gods, it’s going to be torture to watch the omega walk away. 

“Hey, hey.” Dean’s hands are cradling his jaw now, aligning their faces. “To me, you’re safety. You’re the creature in the shadows that will protect me from the demons who haunt my dreams... and my reality. You’re the predator who will help me hunt the real monsters in my life,” Dean finishes in a rough whisper.

Castiel’s heart jumps in his chest, pounding painfully against his rib cage. He cannot believe what he is hearing. This scarred and battered omega looks at him and sees a champion.

“When I saw you out on the deck, tongue lolling out, belly exposed, I wanted to laugh. But when you jumped to your feet, and I saw you for what you are, huge, powerful, deadly. A true alpha. I wasn’t afraid of you, Cas. For the first time in my life, I felt safe. Because you’re not just any alpha, you’re my Alpha, and I know you’ll keep me safe. I can feel it.”

He shuffles up to his knees, his eyes clear and honest. Dean takes a deep breath, his eyes slipping closed as he brings his forehead to rest against Castiel’s. “Nowhere’s ever smelled like this to me before, not since…” he falters, his fingers gripping the fur of Castiel’s neck. “It smells like home here. You smell like home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at by the spectacular [@Thedogsled.](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com/) you know what to do, show them some love <3


	7. Music

Never before has Castiel been so conflicted. Usually, he and his wolf are agreeable, at odds but never apart, but after Dean’s proclamation, his confession, Castiel continually battles with his more primal urges. His newly discovered libido is not helping matters in the slightest. He wakes hard and needy, rutting into his mattress almost daily. He’s taken to running, slipping out in the wee hours of the morning, returning with just enough time to cook Dean a hearty breakfast before slipping back outside again. It’s been six days like this. When Dean slinks into the kitchen, he’s still wearing Castiel’s hoodie, but he looks tired like he hasn’t been sleeping as well as he should be.

“Coffee,” he grumbles—his usual morning greeting—before shuffling past, his chilled fingers sliding over Castiel’s bicep. He does that, touches Castiel, whenever they are close enough, whenever Castiel lets dean into his circle. He touches him, cautious little brushes of skin, fingertips grazing gently on whatever exposed skin Dean can reach at the time. Always so casual, so subtle, but each one brands Castiel, each time he feels the fantom caress for hours after it's gone. Castiel savors and hates them; he wants more, it drives him crazy because he can't, he knows he can't ever have more. 

Dean pours a cup of coffee and settles down at the table. As Castiel sets his plate down—a ham and cheese omelet with a side of hashbrowns—Dean’s hand snaps out to grip his wrist. “Are you leaving again?”

“Just… for a little while.” Castiel can’t stay here; his alpha is too close to the surface. The cabin is steadily taking on Dean’s scent, and it’s too much. He needs control if he’s going to be around Dean for long stretches of time, control he's steadily losing. “There is a bad storm coming,” he explains as Dean’s fingers slip from his wrist to fall limply against the table. Dean nods slowly, and Castiel wants those green eyes on him. _Look at me_ Castiel thinks, his lips compressing as he says, “I’ll be back before long.”

Unable to resist, Castiel runs his fingers through the glossy strands of Dean’s hair, letting his fingers scrape along the scalp, knowing that the oils there will have Dean’s scent clinging to Castiel’s skin for hours. “You can take a shower if you’d like. I hooked up the heater a few days ago.”

Dean’s entire body perks up at the suggestion, his scent expanding and making Castiel light headed with its unfiltered joy. “Oh fuck yes. I was worried I’d have to go swim in the lake.”

Castiel blinks, “How do you know about the lake?”

“You always smell like lake water when you cook breakfast. It dilutes your scent,” Dean shrugs, as he cuts a large chunk of the omelet “...makes it murky. I’ve been putting off asking about showers and stuff. I _really_ didn’t want to have to hike to wherever you go every morning, and I was not looking forward to being told the lake is the only option.”

“No, it’s not, I mean... Yes, I go to the lake, but I wouldn’t expect you to. You might change your mind come summer though.” _If you’re still here by then._ “The water is quite pleasant,” Castiel finishes lamely, letting his hand fall from stroking through Dean’s hair. He shouldn’t get too used to the easy affection Dean allows him.

“Is it good for fishing?” Dean asks cheeks puffed out as he shovels his breakfast into his mouth. “I like fishing.”

“It is, in fact.” Castiel smiles and Dean hums. His eyes flick up, and he slowly licks some cheese from his lip. His pale tongue curls enticingly, and Castiel has the intense urge to bend down and suck his full bottom lip, taste his mouth, hear Dean’s little moans of enjoyment from his kisses instead of his food. Dean’s eyes droop, his lips part, sucking in a deep breath. He sways forward, alluring, a soft subvocal purr leaving his chest. Castiel lurches back, and Dean, who seems to realize what he was doing, blushes.

“I… I’ll be back,” Castiel rasps, heading for the door. A quiet, “okay” from Dean is all he gets as the wind slaps him in the face.

Abandoning his clothing in the small box by the door, he shifts and flees from temptation. He means to come back quickly, but he doesn’t. He wants to, so badly, more than anything, but that urge to return directly to Dean's side, burning angrily under his fur, is the reason why he doesn’t, why he can not. 

Castiel stays in the forest all day. Never far from the cabin, so he’s there when the small propane heater clicks on, and the sound of running water fills his ears. The small window in the bathroom fogs up as he creeps closer. Lured in by the sound of Dean showering. He’s hesitant, battling and losing against his wolf until he's sitting in the snow, snout tilted towards the steam leaking from the small gap at the bottom of the window.

Dean starts off humming, but it quickly evolves into singing. His voice is lovely, a deep tenor that resonates softly in the small bathroom. Castiel listens intently, sitting with his flank pressed up against the side of the cabin. His eyes slip closed, and he relaxes into the sounds and scent streaming from the bathroom.

Dean’s voice fades off into a deep rumble, faltering, the song he’s singing stutters, transforming into a low groan. Castiel goes rigid as Dean lets out a little hiss. He should leave, he should give Dean privacy. He’s about to stand when the scent of Dean’s honey sweet arousal hits him in the face. His body reacts, warming, blood pumping, fueling his desire to give into the sirens call of Dean’s arousal. Castiel lifts his maw and pants open-mouthed, sucking Dean’s scent into his lungs. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced before, the need, the desire. He wants to touch, to taste.

Dean’s heart rate steadily elevates, the slick sound of his hands sliding over his body, over his cock… Castiel can’t. He squeezes his eyes closed, fighting himself, paws flexing in the snow, even as his dick hardens, slipping hot and wet from his sheith. He’s never been aroused in his wolf form, and the sensation is strange, intense. Castiel leans against the cabin, trying to focus, trying to breathe. Dean’s whimpers and moans, the elevated flutter of his heart, it's all music to Castiel’s ears, and he grits his teeth against the urge to bend his neck and lap at his painfully engorged cock. To chase his orgasm as Dean rapidly plummets towards his own.

 _“Alpha…”_ Dean moans low and soft; a prayer leaving his lips. “ _Cas…_ ”

His ears strain, trying to pick out each little sound Dean makes, cock jerking between his legs, dripping hot into the snow under his hips. His arousal flares at the wispered words Dean breathes, and not even the cold can stop the tingles of his knot forming after hearing Dean whispering his name, calling for Castiel as he pleasures himself. 

He is pawing, his nails clawing into the slush at the side of his cabin, Dean moans and comes, the scent of slick and omega release fragrant in the air. Castiel pants, breath choking in his lungs at the scent and how it creeps under his skin lighting him on fire with desire, the need to _claim, mate, breed._ His eyes, flash alpha red in the evening light, bringing the world into sharp contrast. His cock aches between his legs, pulsing and dripping with each beat of his frantic heart, harder than he ever remembers being in his life Castiel whines low in his throat.

“ _Fuck_ , shit.” The squeak of his hands follows Dean's cursing and the erratic sound of water splashing as Castiel assumes Dean is frantically scrubbing over the ceramic of the tub “...Idiot,” he hisses, but his voice is syrupy thick, slurred from his orgasm, and Castiel can smell the relaxed contentment rolling off Dean’s body. He must be trying to wash the signs of his release down the drain, not that it will help, as Castiel could smell it a mile away.

What he wouldn’t give to be in that bathroom, to lick the slick and come from Dean’s skin, off the cold ceramic of the tub. Castiel would kneel before his beautiful omega and bring him pleasure over and over again, in every way he can, in any way Dean asks.

The water cuts off abruptly, and Castiel snaps out of his scent-induced fantasy, silencing the soft growls he’s making, dropping down from where he was leaning up against the cabin. The snow crunches beneath his paws. He pants, shaking his head. His hind legs are stiff with the tension of his desire. With the need to pull Dean below him and mark him from the inside out. Slowly, he drags himself into the forest, his stride stilted with the weight of his erection. There is no way he will be able to face Dean like this. Consumed, as he is, by the sounds and smell of the beautiful man, thoughts of what Dean looks like when he comes fills Castiel’s mind and his cock refuses to soften.

Shifting with an erection is something he hopes he does not have to become accustomed to. It’s an intense feeling, bordering the line between pleasure and pain. Castiel collapses against a tree, his bare back scraping the rough bark, as he sinks down into the snow around its base. The crisp winter air and the bite of the snow does nothing to clear the scent of Dean’s slick assaulting his senses. Castiel's in trouble.

With a groan, he grips his cock, angry at himself for what he’s about to do, but also, as his head tips back and his hand sweeps up his length, he needs this. He tries to be quick, perfunctory, to get it over with as fast as possible. But his wolf whines for him to go back to Dean, forcing him to slow down to squeeze his cock, curl his palm around the thick head and imagine Dean’s soft whimpers, the warmth of his body how he's breathed Castiel's name, so softly, so beautifully; instead of the rough, calloused clasp of Castiel’s hand. 

He moans, breath leaving his lips in thick clouds, his head tips back against the tree, and his eyes slide closed. Squeezing, stroking, fingers teasing his knot, the snow around him melts as his body temperature climbs skyrockets with his need to breed. His hand slips, pumping down his cock to bumb his knot, jolting him with how good it feels, pre-come leaks from the tip, slicking his way. With a gasp he drops his other hand to squeeze at his knot as it steadily expands under his palms.

“Dean,” he pants as bright green eyes, and full pouty lips drift across his mind, and he’s coming. The feeling of his knot popping under his palm makes his hand constrict reflexively. His legs twitch, heels digging into the sodden, muddy earth now under him as he comes, and comes, and comes.

He's given up on pumping his shaft, the orgasm haze too much for his inexperienced mind. Instead, Castiel grips his knot with both hands and squeezes gently in counterpoint to each spurt that leaves him, just like he imagines Dean’s body would.

Castiel will be disgusted and disappointed with himself once the haze of lust clears, but right now, he feels amazing, buzzing and warm and far too good. Absently, he wonders if it always feels like this. If this is why people are so obsessed with any and all sex acts. And, if he had ever given in and indulged outside of a rut, maybe he’d be able to control himself at all. 

But he hadn’t; his need for penance had always been too consuming to allow himself any pleasure. Even his ruts haven’t been this intense, his need driving him to the very edge; he has no counterpoint to compare this to, everything before just seems like a dull and diluted version of his desire. Instead of succumbing to his thoughts to his inadequacies, Castiel focuses on his breathing, trying to slow his heart rate.

When his knot finally begins to deflate, and his mind comes back to him, Castiel is dizzy, the scent of his spend hanging in the air as much as it’s covering his hips, thighs, and hands. He’s a mess, and as he gulps down frigid mountain air, the first few flakes of snow fall before his eyes. His body temperature is dropping rapidly, fatigue from him multiple orgasms makes him lethargic and vulnerable.

Groaning in discomfort, Castiel tries to push up from the muddy little alcove he’s melted into the snow around the base of the tree. He doesn't get far, his legs weak and his limbs trembling. With a sigh, he tips his head back against the tree, resigned to rest until his body is ready to move, watching the snow gently falls around him.

It’s a long while before he has the energy to drag himself upright. His fingers are chilled, and his skin itches with the salty scratch of dried sweat and come. Taking up handfuls of snow and cursing at the painful sting, Castiel cleans himself up as best he can. There’s no way Dean won’t smell him, the come and salt on his skin, the lingering arousal, that is, unless…

The hike back to the cabin in his human form in long and his feet go numb, but Castiel doesn't have the energy to shift. And, he reminds himself that he excels at nothing more than punishing himself. The slow trek through the snow to his smoke shed is the perfect thing to keep his mind off his actions.

Slipping into the outer room of his smoke shed, Castiel takes a moment to breathe in the thick coiling scent of burning wood and roasting meats. He peers into the actual smoking room, sliding the small window shutter to the side and checks the venison, rabbit, and wild turkey he’s got drying in there. Closing the window, he turns and stokes the embers through the access hole before sliding a few more logs onto the pile and letting the scent of hickory lay heavy on his skin. 

It’s intensely warm in the smoke shed, and Castiel slumps down the wall to sit on the smooth wooden floor. It’s not long before he’s sweating, head drooping. Fatigue takes over as he falls into a restless slumber. Off in the distance, he can just make out the gentle strumming of a guitar.


	8. Pie

It’s the hunger that finally wakes him. The slow gnawing in the pit of his stomach that has Castiel stirring, groaning as his stiff muscles rebel against the movement. With a huff, he pulls himself to his feet, stretching until his spine pops and tension bleeds from his limbs. He smells like wood smoke and seasoned meats, decidedly not like alpha arousal. It should be safe for him to return to the cabin. At least for a little while. 

Even as he pulls the smokehouse door open and the cold mountain air smacks him in the face, he can still feel the itch of desire under his skin. His body steams in the early morning sun, heat rising in thick vapor from his shoulders and the top of his head. He’s running so hot that when he slopes himself up onto the deck, he stares forlornly at his clothing, dreading pulling anything on over his flesh. The only thing he wants to feel is the cool press of Dean’s skin, and it’s that thought that has him pulling his Henley over his head and shoving his legs back into his faded jeans.

“You came back.” Dean’s voice is low and rough. He’s sitting in the armchair by the fireplace; a book spread over his knees. The cabin smells like spiced apples and honey, cinnamon, clove, and Castiel fights back a whimper, immediately thankful he put his pants on as his cock begins to harden.

“Of course,” he says, shifting under Dean’s intense gaze. “Of course I came back, I wouldn’t leave you…”

“Well, you could have fooled me.” Dean snaps, then looks shocked by his tone, a blush rising over his cheeks. He blinks wide eyes. “It’s just...” Dean goes on more softly “...that you’ve never left for over twenty-four hours before, and I was…” The watch on Dean’s wrist beeps, and he jumps. “I hope you don’t mind,” he says, sliding out of the chair and setting the book down. “I used some of your ingredients. They were starting to go bad.”

Castiel follows Dean into the kitchen, sliding right up next to him as he reaches into the oven and pulls out a pie. There are two more sitting on the counter cooling, "These are apple, the other is blackberry. I tend to stress bake,” Dean says with a slow shrug as he pulls the oven mitts from his fingers. He's blushing lightly, not meeting Castiel's eye

The pie smells fantastic; its scent only serving to amplify the sweet fragrance of Dean already infusing the cabin. “Thank you, Dean.” Castiel can’t help but reach out and grip his shoulders, rubbing his thumbs over the angle of Dean’s collarbones. “You’re always welcome to whatever stock we have. This is your home, too. In fact, if you need anything else, I can send a message to Benny in town, and he can bring us up more supplies.”

“Can he?” Dean asks, shifting nervously. “That would be—Yes, could we contact him?”

“Of course, come with me.” 

They abandon the pies for the other side of the living space. Castiel guides Dean into the old wooden chair as the computer boots up slowly, as usual, groaning and humming to life. “Have you ever used one of these?”

“One of these, no. But I’ve used newer stuff. The world’s passed you by, Cas,” Dean says fondly. “This thing’s like fifteen years out of date. I’m surprised you can even get websites to load on it.”

“Yes, well, I’ve been up on the mountain for a long time. Out of touch… I suppose.”

“Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.” Dean smiles over his shoulder, there's no heat in his words, and Castiel relaxes under his gaze. “Not that I’m complaining; it’s nice to get away from the electric pull of society, just, get back to nature,” his voice softens “back in tune with your instincts. You know?”

“I know,” Castiel says, as he leans over Dean, reaching for the mouse, caging the man between his arms as he navigates to his email. His instincts are what worries him right now, forcing him to be close to Dean, to touch, to scent him. He smells clean like soap. His hair is soft when Castiel drops his nose into it and runs it over Dean’s scalp. 

“You smell like smoke,” Dean says softly, angling his face to glance up. Castiel moves back slowly, “you don’t smell like you anymore. It’s weird.”

Clearing his throat, Castiel clicks to open a new message and queues up Benny’s email address. “Write any supplies you’d like and tell Benny to charge it to my account. It might take a few weeks, but he’s never let me down before. You can even ask for books or….”

“A few weeks?” Dean asks, his scent souring. "He can't get here tonight?"

“Um, no, usually not. Is that a problem?” Castiel can’t imagine what Dean would need to have right away. Maybe one of his books was damaged when his bags got soaked during his hike up the mountain a few weeks ago? “If it’s an emergency, I have a satellite phone. We could try and call him. The town did get a sno…”

“No, um. It’s fine, it’s ok,” Dean says, pulling the keyboard towards himself. “I’ll send him a quick email and tell him to bring the supplies whenever he’s able to get out here. I’ll... uh, manage.”

“Are you sure, Dean?”

“Yeah Cas. Thank you.” Dean’s smile is broad and kind, but his scent is off, slightly stale. 

“I’ll make us some food. I’ll be doing some wood carving tonight, a gift for Benny. His mate’s pupped.” 

Castiel expects the news to make Dean happy, most wolves would be, but Dean's scent goes bitter, rotten apples, decaying flowers. His smile, in contrast, widens, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Awesome! I’ll be sure to include congratulations and an introduction as to who I am, in the email." Dean licks his lips turning back towards the computer "That’s, just, so exciting. Do you think he will bring the pup up?” His scent deepens as he speaks, though his tone stays light and conversational. There is some darkness hidden behind his eyes that Castiel can’t read. 

Castiel’s nose twitches he sneezes, as Dean's unhappiness makes his cut clench, his hand squeezes Dean’s shoulder as his nose crinkles. “Dean…?”

“Yeah, you smell like smoke. It’s making my eyes water, too. Maybe you should shower before you cook anything?” Dean says, patting his hand and turning back to the computer. 

“Right… okay.” Castiel pulls away, leaving Dean to his thoughts, his email.

The shower does not help clear Castiel’s head at all. The first blast of warm water hitting the tub makes his head spin as it kicks up scent remnants of Dean’s orgasm. He’s already overheating and, the arousal the faded scent spreads through Castiel's body does not help anything, he quickly switches the water to cold. The frigid temperature soothes his skin and smothers his libido. He can’t seem to get his arousal entirely under control, his cock's been half-hard since he walked back into the cabin that morning. 

How does anyone get anything done? Part of him misses when he had full control over his body, his libido, but it’s only a small part because, nothing, _nothing_ would make him send Dean away. He doesn’t want quiet anymore; he wants to hear Dean’s heartbeat, the sound of his socked feet moving around the cabin, the way he shuffles into the kitchen each morning and moans around his first cup of coffee. 

Castiel wonders, as he scrubs soap through his hair, what Dean will look like after spending hours in the summer sun. If he’d want to help plant Castiel’s yearly garden, if he’d be interested in learning about the mountain, to hunt, how vibrant Dean will be, if he will bloom and grow like spring. His hands wander over his skin, slick with soap, as his thoughts distract him. The frigid water isn't even distracting on his heated flesh, ordinarily runs warmer in the winter, but this is honestly getting out of hand. 

Speaking of hands, Castiel yanks his palm off his dick, frustrated with himself, before shoving his head back under the frigid water to rinse the soap away. Stepping out of the shower, the very first thing he notices is how the scent in the cabin has not improved. In fact, it’s taken on hints of pain, so bright and sharp Castiel can almost see the swirls of red in the air. 

“Dean,” He growls, his stomach dropping, his senses kicking into overdrive. He grabs a towel and pulls the door open. He’s listening for another heartbeat, for anything that might clue him into why the cabin smells like moldy anguish. He gags on the scent of sadness as he charges into the main room, towel cupped over his cock. “Dean?” he gasps, shaking his head, eyes flashing red, as he slips into his beta-shift, his fingers curling, claws extending, as he looks for the threat.

“Cas, woah, buddy,” Dean says, standing from the armchair next to the fireplace he’s taken as his own, setting aside the guitar he’s holding. “Where’s the fire?”

“You…” Castiel doesn’t understand. He lifts his face, scenting the air, stepping towards Dean. The despair is definitely coming from him. “You... you’re alright? What... what happened?” Castiel casts around the small cabin again as if someone could be hiding behind the kitchen table. Dragging his gaze back to dean and flushing at finding the other man eyes drag down Castiel's wet chest, his bared hips, nude thighs, the towel he has cupped over his junk seems wholly inadequate in this moment.

“Ah, yeah sorry. " Dean says eyes wide flicking his gaze somewhere over Castiel's shoulder. "I’m not good with controlling my scent,” Dean says with a shrug, then “Omega…” as if it explains anything.

“Did you hurt yourself?” Castiel asks, looking Dean over, but he’s wearing what looks like every layer he owns—at least two pairs of socks, two hoodies, one tucked inside the other. And still the tip of his nose is pink and running slightly. “Are you cold?” 

“Nah, man. I’m good; I got it under control.” Dean shifts away as Castiel steps closer to him, and it hurts, Castiel realizes, watching Dean curl in on himself. His head and eyes slide away, submissive, guarded. 

“Dean, what…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Dean snaps before clearing his throat, his smile returning, forced. “You should, um, get dressed maybe?” His eyes fixate on the little fire burning merrily in the grate. “Maybe lunch? Or an early dinner? There are ingredients for hasenpfeffer stew if you want. I can start on the vegetables?”

Everything in Castiel wants to push, to get to the bottom of Dean’s obvious discomfort and withdrawal. They’d been making progress, he thought, but maybe, like everything else, he misread the signs. 

“Alright, Dean, that sounds great.” Castiel gives a small nod, and before he changes his mind, he leans in and runs his wrist over the bolt of Dean’s jaw. “Whatever it is, you’re safe here, Dean,” Castiel says, trying not to focus on how cold Dean’s cheek is and how touching him seems to calm the inferno under Castiel’s skin.

Dean draws away with a stuttered breath and a stiff nod; his shoulders inch towards his ears, his hands fly to the front pocket of his hoodie. Castiel watches, frozen in place as Dean shuffles over to the kitchen, pulling out supplies with practiced ease. With a forlorn glance, Castiel wraps the towel around his hips and retreats to his room.

The stew is delicious, the perfect meal for how quickly the temperature drops over the course of the evening. They work seamlessly together, Castiel’s heart fluttering at every brush of Dean’s hand. Each time the other man rests his fingers against Castiel's bare forearm, his bright eyes shining as if just being around Castiel is something he enjoys. He can't understand it.

Dean asks him questions, seem genuinely interested in Castiel, in the mountain, in how the cabin works. It’s easy, comfortable. Dean asks about hunting as they prepare the rabbit, and Castiel tells him everything, his voice straining by the time they sit down together—for the first time—at the table.

“This is nice,” Dean says softly, his hand falling on Castiel’s knee for a brief moment before drawing back.

“I haven’t had anything like this in a very long time,” Castiel admits around bites of stew. 

“Yeah, me neither,” Dean says, and again his scent sours. “I used to cook for Sammy, my brother before, well... before. What about you? Have you always been a survivalist or… Um, what are they called, an off-the-grid-er?”

“Oh, no I wasn’t. I had a rather large family. We lived on the outskirts of a city, a few acres of land with enough wild woods to keep our wolves happy, but close enough to the metropolis to ensure we integrated into polite society appropriately.”

“Wow, sounds awesome,” Dean says with a smile, his scent mellowing to something warm and soft that Castiel wants to lean into it. “Me and Sammy grew up in a little house in the suburbs of Kansas. It was nice. How’d you end up out here?”

The question is innocent, just Dean trying to get to know him better, Castiel realizes this, of course, he does, but it still hurts. Still sends him hurtling back into his memories. The blood, the mayhem. 

“I ran,” he says, words rough as they leave him. “We... My family… It’s…”

Dean’s there, his hand cool on Castiel’s heated cheek, calloused but comforting. His thumb strokes along Castiel's cheekbone, drawing him back from the screams, back from the darkness and the fear, of his memories.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to tell me,” Dean says softly, then with a slight grin, he changes the topic—tactful. “I’m full. Did you want more, or is it cool if I clean up? I wanted to tune my guitar. The hike up here wasn’t good for her, and she needs a little TLC... if you know what I mean." _– Castiel doesn't–_ "What do you say about me straightening up while you get your woodworking supplies, and we can hunker down by the fire? Craft night?”

“Yes." Castiel clears his throat, "Yes, that sounds wonderful,” he leans his cheek into Dean’s palm before Dean seems to realize what he’s doing, and quickly snatches his hand away. He watches Dean collect their dishes and wander back towards the sink, the spot on his cheek blissfully cool from where Dean’s hand had been. It’s hard to draw his eyes away from the sinuous movements Dean makes as he moves around the kitchen, the way his hips sway. How he’s carved out a spot in Castiel’s space like he belongs there, like he’s always belonged there. 

“What?” Dean turns around, brows raised.

“Nothing, it’s just… nice. Having you here.”

For some reason that seems to be the wrong thing to say. Dean’s shoulders hunch as he nods stiffly, turning back to the stew, and setting it into Tupperware containers before placing them into the small fridge. He washes his hands, and then shuffles into the living room, throwing a few more logs onto the fire before he sits down and begins to pluck and tune his guitar. Castiel joins him after a while, carving tools in hand. He’s not sure how to bring the smile back to Dean’s face.

It’s not until later when all the wood shavings have been cleaned up, the beginnings of a rocking horse have taken shape, and Dean is humming along to a strummed-out melody on his guitar, that Castiel remembers the pies cooling on the kitchen counter. 

A sudden craving for the sweet treat washes over him and he leaves the couch in a hurry for the kitchen, mouth watering with desire. As he presses a knife into the flaky golden crust, the scent of sweet, savory apples and melted sugar curls into the air around him, making his mouth _flood_ with saliva, he swallows hard, but it doesn't help and he doesn’t realize he’s growling until Dean lets out a low whine.

Castiel snaps back from where he’s hunched over, mouth hovering inches above the pie crust, huffing in the delicious scent like a mad man. At some point, he lost himself, he's beta-shifted, fangs pessing agasint his lips, and he has to force the shift away as he comes back to himself. Surfacing from a thick fog of stimuli, Castiel yanks his fingers from where he’s sunk them into the sticky, toasty depths of the pie. 

There’s cinnamon and apple and warm juicy filling clinging to his fingers, sliding down to his palm, and he needs to lick them clean, he needs to taste them, to know if Dean would taste the same. The scent is overpowering, and it reminds him of Dean’s release, of his orgasm. He instinctively seeks out the other man.

Dean stands, moving towards him, drawn like a magnet. Castiel lifts his sticky hand to his mouth, but Dean fingers curling cool and strong around his wrist stop him. Castiel doesn’t know what’s happening, but he can’t look away, his body heating, his pulse thundering in his veins, he feels dizzy, faint. Sweat drips down his spine as Dean drags Castiel’s pie-covered fingers towards his mouth.

Dean’s tongue is pink and soft as it slides up Castiel’s middle finger, collecting the filling there. It’s unlike anything, and Castiel grows achingly hard in his jeans, as Dean sucks his digit into the warm, wet depths of his mouth. Dean’s eyelashes flutter, his shoulders drop, relaxing, even as his cold fingers convulse against Castiel’s wrist. And he moans, the vibrations trembling through Castiel's hand directly to his cock.

Choking on a fresh flood of saliva floods Castiel pants as Dean’s cheeks hollow, sucking, rolling his tongue agasint the senstive pad of Castiels finger. The slow slide of Dean's mouth as he takes more and more of Castiel's finger sucking it deeper, and deeper, until he flicks the tip of his tongue against Castiel's palm, pulling an uncontrollable snarl passed Castiel’s lips. 

He’s moving, pushing; forcefully stepping forward and crowding Dean back against the counter, his free hand snapping out to grip Dean’s hip, grinding them together, guiding Dean’s erection against his own. The sweet smell of slick and the sharp tang of pre-come hits Castiel's senses like a punch to the gut. 

Slowly Castiel draws his finger out of Dean’s mouth, presses heavily on Dean’s bottom lip before adding a second and slowly plunging them both back passed Dean’s plush lips. He draws out again, pressing down on Dean’s tongue, forcing the omega’s mouth open wide, saliva pooling at the edges of Dean’s lips. It's obscene, and Castiel hungers.

Slipping his thigh between Dean’s spread knees, Castiel presses in, rolling his hips. Dean groans around his fingers, eyes rolling back and immediately drops his hips, pressing down, whimpering with lust-blown, heavily-lidded eyes. Castiel has no idea what he’s doing, doesn't care either as Dean melts agasint him, instinct drives him, pushes him towards something. Something big, something that expands inside of Castiel until his skin is stretched thin and he can bearly breathe. 

Dean is a live wire in his arms, and he never wants to let go. He wants to feel the electric pulse Dean’s creating inside of him forever. Castiel pulls his fingers back and sucks them into his mouth, tasting Dean there, the pie, the wet heat of Dean’s saliva. His eyes flash red, and Dean shivers against him, hips rolling, his cock throbbing in the cradle of Castiel's hip. Dean's hands grip Castiel’s shirt, pulling Castiel in, his chin tips and Dean bears the long beautiful line of his neck. 

_“Alpha.”_

The word is like ice water and rapture all at once. Castiel gasps, pulling back, snatching his hands away from Dean’s skin. His wolf howls in his head, but he can’t. Not like this. Castiel blinks hard, as Dean slumps against the counter, eyes squeezed shut, shaking from the sudden rejection. 

“Dean. I—” Castiel flounders. 

“It’s fine, I get it,” Dean manages, but his voice is shaking, broken. He straightens his hoodie, Castiel's hoodie, pulling hard on the hem as he stands, attempting to hide his straining erection behind layers of fabric. Castiel can smell the tang of his pre-come, the liquid gold scent of his slick in the air as Dean staggers a few steps. His legs trembling as he smacks his palm out against the wall, bracing as he draws a deep breath, rolling his shoulders. Dean seems to power through whatever is making his body weak and stomps off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. 

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ ,” Castiel snarls, hands on his hips, staring down at his traitorous body, cock throbbing hotly within the confines of his jeans, pre-come darkening where his cockhead strains for freedom. Everything in him wants to chase after Dean, to go to him and wipe the pain and loneliness from his face, from his scent. He won’t force himself on Dean, though. He can’t, not when he promised Dean he was safe. Castiel needs to run, he needs to escape the alluring scent of Dean’s arousal. Needs to expend the pent-up energy burning under his skin.

He storms over to the front door, pulling his shirt off as he goes. It clings to his torso, sweat-soaked and gets tangled around his head. Castiel growls, ripping the fabric and tossing the shirt shreds to the ground as he yanks the door open. A wall of snow greets him, rising ominously white and impenetrable, as tall as his chest. Somewhere over the course of the evening, the storm hit. Castiel didn't even sense it. Didn't feel the change int he air, not when he's so peaceful and domestic with Dean at his side, his wolf curled up and content in the recesses of his mind the longer he spent with Dean. Castiel slams the front door closed. He won’t be going anywhere tonight.


	9. C-c-cold.

It’s hours later when Castiel finally drags his body into bed. The kitchen is spotless, the fire in the main room burns low, the safety grate in place, and still his mind races. His blood boils, his cock stubbornly remains achingly, frustratingly hard. And to top it all off, he’s hot, so fucking hot that when he finally trudges passed the bathroom, he wishes, more than anything, that he could drown himself in another cold shower. Sadly with the storm and the snow drifts, Castiel doesn’t want to risk running through their supply of fresh water if the plumbing does end up freezing.

The sheets are cool to the touch as he slips naked and sweating between them, and though it only lasts a moment, they feel wonderful against his overheated skin. He’s tempted to go and open the window, but after a second glance, the snow drift is high against the glass here as well. 

He’s only been snowed in like this once before and had ample warning then, unlike tonight. Castiel worries about the tubes running to his well and the solar panels up on the roof. He’s sure there is enough fuel in the back storage to run the generator if the power fails. It’s never failed him before, but no system is perfect. Shifting against the sheets, he kicks his comforter to the end of the bed, sighing.

If he wasn’t confident that were’s can't carry disease, or get colds–for that matter–Castiel would be worried that he’s sick. He drapes his arm across his eyes and counts back the months. He isn’t due to hit his rut until late spring…

“Cas?” The sound of his bedroom door creaking open has him snapping up, pushing his chest off the bed and leaning back against his elbows.

“Dean?”

“Look… I…” Dean shuffles into the room, shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it. His head tilts up towards the ceiling, his heartbeat hummingbird fast. The hood he's got up around his head obscures his face, but Castiel gets the sense he’s willing himself to say something. “I know you p-p-probably don’t want to see me right n-n-now. I know… I know. It’s fucked up. It’s so fucked up, okay, but I’m so c-c-cold. I’m so cold, please.”

“I…” Castiel says slowly, as Dean’s eyes finally drop to meet his, “I don’t have any more blankets…” 

Dean makes a wounded noise, frustrated, his scent slowly flooding the room, so ripe and soft, and Castiel can’t help but relax into it. His cock twitches between his legs and the thin sheet he has draped over his hips does nothing to hide the way his dick starts to harden. 

“You can have mine…” Castiel says, gesturing to the comforter draped at the foot of his bed. Trying to keep his thoughts straight, trying so desperately to stop the way his body responds to Deans very presence. 

Dean doesn’t look at the blanket, his eyes focused somewhere around the area of Castiel’s chest, his breathing slows to match the rise and fall of Castiel’s. He looks like he’s relaxing, shoulders dropping, eyelids drooping.

“Let me s-s-stay,” Dean says softly, licking his lips and lifting his eyes, “with you, C-C-Cas.”

His wolf prowls, clawing, jumping at the idea of having Dean wrapped up in his arms, of putting this awful heat to good use and warming the lovely omega, inside and out. His rational side rebels. He knows something’s not right, not with him, and not with Dean. The cabin isn’t cold enough to make Dean shiver as he is, and Castiel shouldn’t be running so hot. Having Dean in his bed, smelling so divine, will only make it that much harder to resist the beautiful man.

“I… I don’t know, Dean,” Castiel says slowly. 

Immediately, Dean curls in on himself, the scent of rejection, thick and syrupy, floods the room. Dean chokes, low in his throat even as he shuffles forward, eyes down, broken. Castiel did that; he hurt him. His wolf rebels against the idea of causing Dean pain, of Castiel rejecting him in any way. 

Dean reaches out for the blanket at the end of Castiel’s bed, and he’s suddenly there, his hand wrapping around Dean’s wrist. He doesn't’ even remember moving, but his skin tingles where the fabric of Dean’s hoodie bunches under his palm. Dean’s skin holds no warmth, and the omega gasps as the heat of Castiel’s hand spreads into his chilled skin.

“Stay,” Castiel says, and he doesn't know why he says it. He shouldn’t be saying it, because already his cock aches, twitching against his thigh. He pulls Dean’s wrist, dragging him closer. “Stay,” he says again, and Dean’s eyes flash gold. He sighs, scrambling under the sheet, sliding his chilled form onto the bed next to Castiel’s, pulling the comforter back up and draping it over them both. He’s shivering, muscles jumping, teeth chattering. 

“What can I do?” Castiel asks, still half propped up on his elbow. Dean’s eyes open, glowing from the depths of his hoodie, his lips part as he gives a small smile.

“Can you touch me?” Dean asks, his soft voice thunderous in the quiet of Castiel’s room. His blood rushes in his ears, his cock drools wet against his thigh, and Castiel is disgusted with himself.

“I... can,” Castiel says hesitantly, hand hovering over Dean’s shoulder. 

“Yeah, touch me,” Dean says again, licking his lips and shifting closer. 

Powerless to resist, Castiel does, and he can feel the chill of Dean's body as a void, sucking the heat from him. It's incredible. For the first time in hours, days maybe, he feels better, his body cooling as he drops his palm and strokes down Dean’s arm. Even through all of the layers Dean is wearing, Castiel can feel the muscle of Dean’s arm jump at his touch. Dean groans, shifting closer, trembling in softly cresting waves until his back is pressed gently along Castiel’s chest.

“More, please,” Dean sighs, his eyes slipping closed. “Tighter.... Cas,” he sighs.

The feeling of Dean in his arms makes Castiel's wolf purr; it radiates from deep inside of him, contentment, a rightness, like he's never known. He feels like he’s finally fulfilling his purpose, protecting, providing. He slips down, adjusting behind Dean, careful to keep his hips back to hide his shameful arousal, the aching throb of his cock. Castiel is sure that Dean can smell it, smell him, but he doesn't seem to mind. Dean is finally in his bed, in his den and Castiel will never be the same again.

Draping his arm around Dean’s hips, Castiel curls it up against him, pulling them tighter together. It feels good, to bleed off this excess heat like it’s what he’s supposed to be doing. And from the way Dean sighs, relaxing, his ice-cold fingers coming up to spread along the back of Castiel’s hand as it rests on Dean’s chest, Dean likes it, too. 

Dean’s feet press back, his bare toes curling against Castiel’s, rubbing gently. Every place they touch brings Castiel’s temperature down, clears his head, makes it easier for him to relax against his pillows. And, for a while it seems like Dean finds some relief, too, his heart rate slowing, his breathing evening out, his body going limp with sleep. 

Castiel knows there will be no rest for him tonight as he watches the slow rise and fall of Dean’s shoulders, not with how his body heats and cools in waves, his arousal so thick it chokes him, cock dripping against his leg, his balls tensing and relaxing with each drop of pre-come he leaks. The urge to shift forward, to press his bare hips against the soft cotton swell of Dean’s ass under his sleep pants. To feel the plush curve of Dean’s bottom in the cradle of his hips and confirm that they fit together as perfectly as Castiel knows they will. It's all consuming, makes him tense and keeps sleep a long way off.

He bites his lips until pain blossoms–a momentary distraction–but Dean shifts, trembling, whimpering. His heart kicks up, fluttering like a bird in flight, and before Castiel can react, Dean is reaching behind him and gripping the hoods of his sweatshirts, yanking them over his head.

Castiel watches with wide eyes as the fabric flies across the room, and Dean arches his neck, gasping as the ice cold expanse of his shoulders and torso presses back against the front of Castiel’s sweaty chest.

“Please, please,” Dean groans, reaching with trembling fingers and wrapping Castiel’s arm back around his ribs. Dean sighs, muscles relaxing, the skin of his chest smooth, chilled against Castiel’s palm, in contrast to the rough scars of his back. Dean settles for a moment, and Castiel breathes out a harsh breath. His body boils with the need to press full and flush against Dean, to curl entirely around him, inside him. The desire vibrates under his skin and makes his drip with sweat. This is a punishment and a pleasure, unlike anything he's ever known.

“Tell me what’s wrong, Dean, what’s going on? How can I help you?” Castiel begs as Dean’s heart rate kicks up again, hummingbird fast, his back arching as his feet slide back to tangle more firmly with Castiel’s.

“What do you mean? You…” Dean glances over his shoulder, their faces too close together. His eyes go wide, and then he’s turning to roll over in the space between Castiel’s arms. “You don’t…. but you’re reacting. You’re calling to me... How could you not know?”

“Not know what?” Castiel asks, frustrated. He doesn’t understand. The only thing he knows is how badly he wants to press Dean under him, plunge his aching cock into Dean's warm body and lock them together. His cock hurts, arousal is leaking out of his pores, and he doesn't understand why Dean is still here, in his bed, in his _arms,_ and not halfway back down the mountain. Realization seems to dawn slow like sunrise over Dean’s features, and whatever he’s figured out, Castiel hopes he’s about to share.

“How long have you been here?” Dean licks his lips, eyes fluttering as a shiver wracks his body. “On the mountain?”

“M...maybe fifteen, sixteen years?” Castiel responds lowly, unsure what it has to do with Dean being in his bed, freezing chest plastered against Castiel’s sweaty one, ripe apple and honeysuckle scent infusing his bed so that it will never, _ever_ smell the same again. Not that Castiel wants it to.

“When… when did you present? How old were you?” Dean gasps, shivers and pushes his leg between Castiel’s drawing them closer together.

“I don’t know, I don’t remember, maybe fourteen, fifteen. Dean, what’s going on? What’s happening to you, to me?” 

“And how,” Dean gulps, voice rasping low “How old are you now?”

“Thirty-one, maybe. Yes, I think. What does this even matter?”

“Oh, my God.” Dean gasps out a laugh. His hand comes to cup Castiel's jaw, and Castiel can’t help it, he turns into the cool touch, pressing his lips against the calloused skin. “You, you’ve never been… You’ve been here, by yourself, since you presented? You’ve never been, you’ve… I’m—I’m in heat, Cas.” Dean laughs again like he’s shocked, surprised. Castiel can’t tell, the word heat echoing through his head, his wolf pushing to the surface. “Please, you have to help me.”

Castiel’s growling low as Dean tilts his head back, exposing the soft skin of his throat and he can’t fight the pull, he doesn't resist it, lets it flow over him as Dean rumbles his approval. Castiel lowers his face into the nook between Dean’s neck and shoulder huffing lungfuls of air. He can’t deny the request, not with how Dean’s hand slides from his jaw into his sweat-soaked hair and pulls him closer. 

“Help me,” Dean whispers, _“Alpha…”_

There’s a compulsion under his skin; he can feel his fingers tingle, his claws trying to slip free, gums aching. He wants to shift, let his wolf out, let it into his skin, to respond in the most primal way to Dean’s plea. _His omega._ He wants to be whatever Dean needs him to be. He wants to feel like he’s earned that title, to be Dean’s Alpha.

“Anything, Dean, anything you need. Tell me how… how to be what you need.” His lips brush Deans neck as he speaks, and he closes them around the tendon, sucking the flesh into his mouth. Dean convulses against him, arching and groaning. Their hips brush, Castiel’s erection dragging against the soft fabric at the front of Dean’s sleep pants and before he realizes it he’s rolled them, pinning Dean down, nudging his knees wide so he can settle between Dean’s thighs. 

“Oh, God.” Castiel gasps, pulling his head back. Dean’s eyes are liquid gold, his chest heaving. He lifts his legs, wrapping them around Castiel’s thighs, and rolls his hips, dragging their groins together. “Dean, please.” 

He’s got both of Dean’s wrists pinned to the bed, and he has no idea how they got like that. “I don’t. I’m sorry, Dean... I don’t know what I’m doing. I can’t stop. You have to make me, you smell...” Castiel’s eyes roll back as Dean’s hips shift again, his pants damp, his cock hard, dragging against Castiel. “You smell amazing.”

“You’re doing great, Cas,” Dean breathes, his back arching as their hips slide together, Castiel looks down between their bodies, his cock is–trapped against the fabric stretched between Dean’s thighs–nestled in the cradle of Dean’s hip, disappearing and reappearing with each aborted, uncontrolled thrust of his hips. “I’m... I’m going to try and tell you...  _ fuck yes _ ... What’s going to happen but... _O_ _h, oh!_ ” Dean gasps “...don’t stop. Cas, don’t you dare fucking stop.” 

Castiel panics, panting, gasping for air, pressing his body down harder, hips rolling, entirely of their own volition, seeking friction. Pleasure curls low and hot, making his muscles scream, his knees slip on the sheet as Dean convulses under him, jaw tense, eyelashes fluttering, the most beautiful sight Castiel has ever seen. Dean chokes out a groan before all the tension leaves his body and the room floods with the scent of his orgasm. Wetness expands in a rush from under Dean, soaking the fabric pressed against Castiel’s thighs 

“Dean, Dean.” Castiel falls to his elbows, his hips still rolling, their chests brush as Dean sucks slow, even breaths. He releases Dean’s wrists to grip the headboard with one hand, and stroke through Dean’s hair with the other.

“I need…  _ Dean _ .” Castiel chokes on the tidal wave of desire rising inside of him, sending heat scorching over his skin. His hips work, the fabric of Dean’s pants, wet with his orgasm, rub slick and coarse against the sensitive head of his cock. “I need…”

“Take what you need, Alpha.” Dean manages, his hands dropping down to grip the meat of Castiel’s ass, encouraging him to grind down. His mouth floods with saliva as he presses up into Dean’s palm, before grinding down again. But this is not what he wants. 

“I need to taste you.” He manages, prying their bodies apart and reaching down to grip the pants Dean’s wearing.

“Fuck yeah,” Dean says lifting his hips up as Castiel tears the fabric from his body, claws popping, shredding the material until Dean’s laid bare before him, slowly they retract again as Castiel gently strokes over Dean’s exposed thighs. He's stunning, beautiful, muscle and tan, freckled skin. There's a trail of deep brown hair that spears from his belly button down around the base of his flushed red cock.

“Beautiful.” Castiel moans, dropping his face to that trail of hair, following it to where Dean’s scent, his arousal, is thickest. He laps at the release covering Dean’s hips and the flushed tip of his cock. Dean arches into his touch, his hands flying down to grip Castiel’s hair, pulling as Castiel swirls his tongue through the sweet and salty come coating Dean’s softening cock, each lick taste is ambrosia.

“Mine,” he growls, part of him shocked at the statement, part of him relishing in the word leaving his lips. Dean hisses and tries to shift away, his cock twitching and sensitive from overstimulation. Castiel reaches out, gripping Dean’s hips, holding him still, eyes flashing red. Dean gasps and lifts his chin, hissing out a low, “Yes,  _ yours _ .”

Castiel takes his time, licking Dean clean, his cock hanging hot and heavy between his legs, throbbing and dribbling a steady stream of pre-come, but his arousal is distant as he feasts on Dean's release. He feels lost in his instincts, caving under the tidal waves of their combined pheromones. By the time he’s cleaned Dean, Dean’s cock is hard, arching proudly from the nest of sandy brown hair, the tip flushed and pink, and so very wet. 

“Cas, I need you.” Dean gulps, hands gripping the headboard, biceps flexing as he stares down where Castiel's hunched between his spread legs. "Want you.”

“Mine.” Castiel bites out, his hands sliding back up Dean’s body. He knows he’s losing himself to the wolf and he can’t find it in himself to care. Shaking his head, Castiel shifts down until he’s spread over Dean, blanketing him. “Want you, my omega. My Dean. Tell me what you need.”

Dean licks his lips, clearing his throat and taking a slow breath. “The first…  _ fuck _ ... The first time I come is the easiest. And––and I get a few minutes of clarity before everything goes to shit. My heat it... It takes over, and I need you, I need... Look, I’m sorry to do this to you, I know it’s not what you signed up for.” Dean stops, whimpering, as Castiel caves to the allure of his scent and presses his nose to the soft, warm skin behind Dean’s ear. “Fucking hell.  I’m sorry to put you in this position, Cas, but I don’t have any other options. You gave me no choice, smelling like this. It’s just getting worse, harder. You…. You’re...  _ Shit _ .  You’re responding so …. perfectly. So warm.  _ Alpha _ ,” he sighs like he can’t control the word from slipping passed his lips.

Dean falls silent, closing his eyes as they flash gold and a shudder wracks his frame. The scent of slick blossoms like a flower around him and Castiel can feel it warm and welcoming as it leaks down his thigh where he’s pressed against Dean’s hips. “I just need you to... I need you to knot me, Okay? Fuck, just… I need it, Cas. I need you.”

“I’ve never, I don’t know how.” Lust pools low in his gut. This can’t be happening. “I’ve never knotted anything, anyone. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Already Dean’s hips are moving, his arms flexing as he grips the headboard, knuckles white. “You won’t. My gentle Alpha, I trust you. You’d never hurt me, right?”

“Never,” Castiel agrees, and he means it down to his core. His wolf snarls at the thought of anyone hurting Dean ever again. “Can I take you like this? I want to see... I want to see your face.” 

Castiel isn’t sure he'll be able to do what Dean needs him to. He doesn't know if he can keep himself present in the face of his wolf’s overwhelming drive to  _ mate, claim, breed _ . There is a need multiplying in him, his muscles twitching, wanting to drive forward, to spear inside and roughly fuck his claim into, _in_ _ to _ , Dean’s body. Watch Dean grow round from his come, his pups. Castiel’s mind goes fuzzy at the idea of Dean swollen with his children. The wolf presses at his control, wanting to bite, to claim Dean for their own. 

He whines down at Dean, nipping along his jaw with blunt human teeth, not fangs, not yet. He won’t bite Dean, not like this. Not their first time. Not when Castiel isn't even sure Dean will want more than just this from him, more than just his knot to get Dean through his heat. 

He can control it; he can. At least–Castiel tells himself–if they are face to face, he can try to stay with Dean. Keep himself in check. Coherent enough in the face of Dean’s heat and the overbearing rush of his own new found arousal to be cognizant of any pain he might unwittingly cause. To not _claim_  him.

“Yes.” Dean moans, head tossing. 

“Can I... Can I kiss you, Dean?”

“Yes. Fuck, yes Cas.”

He doesn’t wait; he feels like he’s already waited forever. Like his whole life has been leading up to this moment, and as their lips crash together, Castiel can’t help the groan that erupts from his throat. Dean tastes like coming home, his lips soft, his tongue warm and slick, and sweet like the pie he’s sucked from Castiel’s fingers not so long ago. He kisses Dean until his mouth is sore, bitten and red, and Dean is panting, his back arching, hands slipping up and down the planes of Castiel’s ribs. They kiss until Dean whimpers. Until he begs with hushed breaths for Castiel’s knot.

“Okay… okay.” Castiel says, hands shaking as he leans back, spreading his knees and gripping Dean’s hips, pulling him up the incline of Castiel’s thighs. Dean’s weight is easy to bear, Castiel props himself up against the mattress, one hand by Dean’s ribs, the other spearing down to grip the base of his cock. Dean’s long legs wrap around his hips, pulling himself higher.

“Alpha, please,” he begs, eyes glowing in the darkness of the room. 

It takes him two tries to line himself up, hands shaking with nerves and desire. Dean’s hole is leaking so profusely that Castiel’s cockhead keeps slipping along the smooth skin to poke up under Dean’s balls. Dean grunts, his brow dipping in frustration as his nails bite small crescent where he’s gripping Castiel’s shoulders.

“I’m sorry, fuck.” Castiel curses and looks up from trying to line himself up when Dean laughs. “I, fuck. I don’t know what I’m doing, Dean" Castiel confesses "...but it, it feels. Oh God, it feels so...” he cuts off with a whimper, pulling back and fisting his cock, as he desire becomes too much, the tip smears wetly against the smooth skin of Dean’s perineum.

“It’s ok.” Dean whispers, flush riding high on his cheeks. “Come’ere.” 

Castiel shifts up the bed, Dean’s body bowing as he moves. One hand slips to cup Castiel’s neck while the other reaches between them, searching. As Dean’s fingers wrap around his cock Castiel growls, his hips snap forward of their own volition, his hands convulsing against the mattress, the wolf rippling under his skin. Dean hushes him, guides the tip of Castiel’s cock to the soft, puffy entrance of his body.

“Tight.” Castiel gasps as Dean urges him forward. “Dean…” his voice comes out as a whine, his brows knitting, as he tries to look between their bodies where he is slowly disappearing into the hot, wet channel of Dean’s ass.

“It’s ok Cas.” Dean hiccups “The heat, my heat makes me lose, relaxed; the slick makes me ready... so ready for you, _Alpha_.”

The bed groans as Castiel tenses fighting the urge to thrust forward, hard and fast, there’s a tearing noise, the sound of the sheets shredding, as Castiel’s claws pop out, puncturing through the bedding and into the mattress before he can control them and drag the change back. His hips inch forward, Dean’s calves contracting at the small of Castiel’s back, pulling them together. And all the while he moans out soft encouragement, both of his hands gripping at Castiel’s tense shoulders.

“Tight. Dean, tight.” Castiel whines, clingin to Dean as his wolf pulls him deeper into the frenzy, he fights to form words, to keep control over his conscious mind.

“Come on, come on.” Dean arches, shoving his hips down and Castiel slips in deeper. Something in him breaks, snapping suddenly, his thoughts blank, the tension in his gut unraveling as inch by inch he sinks into Dean’s body. He’s not sure if instinct is telling him Dean’s ready, or if it’s just the way Dean moans, his eyes glowing brightly for a moment but he needs to, he has to... 

Castiel drops his torso down, one hand prying out of the mattress to grip Dean’s hip as he slams forward with a snarl, burying himself to the hilt. It’s warm and tight, and Dean cries out, his legs wrapping tightly around Castiel’s hips.

He has a moment of clarity, one hand stroking through Dean’s hair, Castiel’s wolf giving over enough for him to purr out a questioning noise. Dean wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, pulling him in for a filthy kiss, and Castiel loses himself. He brings his arms up under Deans back, fingers curling around his shoulders to hold him tightly as he snaps his hips again. Pleasure curls up his spine as he gives into the slick slide of Dean’s body. 

Madness has taken over, his mind slowly slipping away with each punched out whimper from Dean below him. Castiel gives into the call of his wolf, and he’s reduced to growls and snarls, hands scratching, squeezing, claiming his mate below him.

“More fuck, more Cas.” Dean manages, hand slipping on the sweat-soaked skin of Castiel’s shoulders.

“Mine, mine, mine.” Castiel repeats, grunting on each thrust, on each sharp smack of his hips against Dean’s.

“Yes.” Dean moans, eyelids fluttering, breath stuttering. “I’m going... I’m gonna…” he gasps, and Castiel howls as Dean’s body tightens vice-like around his cock. Dean’s hole fighting against each withdraw Castiel makes. He fucks Dean hard and fast through each rolling crest of the omega’s orgasm, slick gushing out around Castiel’s cock, soaking his legs, the bed. It’s perfect; this is how he should always smell, like Dean, like his slick, his come, his pleasure.

The scent of Dean’s release and contentment floods the air and fills Castiel’s chest with pride. He slows the furious snapping of his hips, dropping his mouth to suck a dark mark against the bend of Dean’s neck. 

“You gonna knot me, Alpha?” Dean asks, his voice raw from his moans.

Unconsciously Castiel snaps forward hard and fast, into Dean’s heat, growling low against Dean’s throat. “That’s it Cas, gimme your knot.”

“Yes,” Castiel rumbles because that is exactly what he wants, what he's going to do. He arches back for more leverage, shifting Dean around, rearranging them. Dean rolls onto his side, lifting one long leg over Castiel's shoulder, the other across his thigh as Castiel rolls forward. “Better,” Castiel grunts as he slides in deeper, shivering at the new position and how Dean’s body flutters around him. There is nothing he can compare this to; nothing will ever come close to how he feels right now, body and mind solely focused on the man writhing beneath him. “Dean?” he asks again, softly.

“Better,” Dean agrees, hands gripping the sheets, breath stuttering as his cock twitches already beginning to fill between his legs.

There’s a tension building in his gut, something tight and dark, spreading out in slow pulses through his limbs, lighting up his nerve endings and making him rabid, his fangs drop and his snarls, growls. Tipping up onto his knees, Castiel folds Dean's thigh up towards his ribs, hips snapping into the tight suction of Dean's body. 

The slick wet sound of their hips colliding with abandon fills the small room, and Castiel grows dizzy from the sensations. The wet grip, the scent of Dean, urging him on, pushing him towards something he’s almost afraid of, but wont stop racing towards. Dean’s hard against him again, his heart fluttering as he cants his hips up and begs, neck arching, the long tantalizing line of his throat a beacon for Castiel’s mouth.

The skin is slick and fragrant and tastes of salt and sweetness, of Dean as he presses his mouth to it, teeth scraping, lips sucking. His knot aches, tingling as it expands, catching on Dean’s rim every time he pulls away.

“Yes, yes,” Dean grunts each time their hips meet. “Cas, fuck so big. Filling me up so good. So good.”

His knot catches, and his orgasm takes him a violent pleasure, stars explode behind his eyes, fire rains down over his skin, and he implodes. Castiel releases Dean’s body just in time, his hands flying to the headboard, claws sinking into the thick wood, as his cock jerks. He’s grinding down, vision bleeding red, coming, coming, achingly deep, all heat and fire thundering out of him, draining him of his strength and all conscious thought. 

His claws drag through the wood of his bedframe like butter, snarling passed his fangs as his orgasm washes over him. Dean cries out, back arching, his hands grip Castiel’s shoulders as his core tightens, and Castiel tips over again, cock spurting, twitching. He roars as the pleasure peaks again, unable to fight the urge to press down, his knot pulsing, fattening, as Dean gulps for air under him. 

Pleasure and pheromones hang like a haze around his senses, and he loses track of time, of his orgasms, the utter bliss blinding him to the world. The sound of his blood rushing in his ears is accompanied by Dean’s throaty moans and the stiff feel of the tendons in Dean’s neck, flexing between Castiel’s teeth. The soft unbroken skin between his jaws is Castiel’s only anchor to his conscious mind. His cock is milked by the steady spasms of Dean’s body; the overwhelming motion keeps trying to draw him under, to make his fangs drop, to pierce the skin of Dean’s throat and claim him as Castiel’s. 

Eventually, whuffing softly into the skin between his teeth, Castiel gives up. His arms collapse under the weight of his torso, and he drops against Dean’s chest. His eyes slide closed as he sucks, sleepily, at the steadily bruising skin under his lips.


	10. Mine

Soft fingers brush up and down his ribs. Cool and refreshing like rainwater, steadily guiding him out of one of the best dream's he’s ever had. Castiel snuffles his face deeper into his pillow, soft and soothing, surrounding himself in the sweet fragrance of honeysuckle and faint notes of cedar, grumbling happily. 

Everything but the insistent tickling over his sides is encouraging him to go back to sleep, caressing his senses in a way that makes him melt against the cool sheets below him. He’s tired, worn out down to his very bones like never before, and it’s good, so good. There is a lightness to the fatigue that clings to him, and it’s a pleasant heaviness that comes with waking up from the kind of dream he’d like to stay in, even just for a few more minutes.

“Cas. _Cas_ _?_ ”

Castiel snuffles, shifting, pleasure zings up his spine as the bed below him sighs deeply, the hands stroking his flank stop, squeezing, and then continuing. His bed is moving slowly, stretching, soft slick skin sliding under his chest, cold toes rubbing gently against his calves.

 _“Alpha….”_ a soft voice sings to him.

Castiel surges to wakefulness, sucking in air like a drowning man, arms pulling back from where he’s curled up around Dean’s body. He’s lying wholly on top of Dean, the omega’s legs spread and wrapped around his own, his hands stroking over Castiel’s heated skin. He feels better now, as though the fire in his blood has burnt itself out a little, soothed by the cool wash of Dean’s fingers.

“Dean!” He gasps as reality sets in, and he realizes exactly what he’s doing. Desperately he tries to extract himself from the man below him. Eyes flying wide, he chokes on saliva, pleasure scorches through his nerve endings, making his arms tremble. He looks down between their bodies to where he’s stuffed up inside Dean’s heat; hips pressed so firmly against the elegant curve of Dean’s ass that Castiel can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins. Dean’s cock is throbbing as it softens, clear liquid oozing slowly from the tip to join the swath of sticky mess covering the sharp angle of his pelvis.

The scent of their many orgasms hangs heavy in the air, and by the predawn rays of the sun, Castiel can see the necklace of bruises he sucked and bit onto Dean’s soft skin. The darkest of which is a spot at the juncture of Dean’s neck and shoulder. It’s slightly oblong and so dark it’s almost black, angry red indents ring the edges from all the times Castiel pressed his–thankfully blunt–human teeth to it.

“Oh, Dean… _Dean…_ ” Castiel licks his lips, mouth dry in horror, taking in the state of the man below him. He can’t help but stroke his fingers back through Dean's sweat-dampened hair, in some broken, insufficient form of comfort, sweeping the locks off Dean’s forehead. Castiel has no idea how Dean can lay there under a monster like him, someone who would strive to mark and bruise and hurt, but he does. Calmly, utterly relaxed, Dean blinks lazily up at him, smelling content and untroubled.

“Dean, say something...” Panic crawls under his skin like an old friend, stabbing into his chest, his heart, making it hard to breathe. “I’m so... I’m so sorry,” he wheezes air, fighting, fingers slipping down Dean’s neck, stroking over the large bruise at the juncture Dean’s shoulder.

Dean collapses in on himself, gasping like he’s being electrocuted, his abs twitch, shoulders hunching, his body bends, and he moans. One of his hands snaps out to grab Castiel’s wrist pulling his fingers away from the mark on Dean’s neck.

“Oh. Oh, God...” Castiel curses dread momentarily flooding his system before he tilts his head back in ecstasy, panting as Dean’s body contracts around his cock, pleasure so tight it hurts, only made better by the soft scent of omega permeating the air.

“Cas, please.” Dean pants, going limp under him again. “Just chill for a second will you.”

Whining low and long in his throat, Castiel tries to suck air into his rapidly failing lungs. The more he looks, the more dread fights its way through the ecstasy and fatigue. Dean is covered in bruises; marks sucked into the flesh of his neck and collarbones, a smattering of purple and pink along Dean’s pectorals. There are bite marks around his nipples and along his ribs. The tops of his shoulders have bruises in what could only be the shape of Castiel’s fingers.

His stomach rolls as he looks, flashes of memory, a night of gripping Dean, fucking him deep and hard, knotting him over and over again. His arms curled under Dean’s back, up over his shoulder blades, to hold the man hostage under him. The headboard is in shambles, clawed and chipped, and the pillow under Dean’s head has a multitude of round chunks torn into it... Bite marks made with sharp canine teeth from all the times Castiel forced himself not to claim Dean throughout the night. Feathers from the pillow and fluff from the deep claw marks in the mattress are scattered over the sheets and in Dean’s hair.

Castiel is a monster.

“Cas, Cas. Hey, buddy.” Dean’s hands cup his face, turning him, so their eyes meet. How he wants to run, to hide from those eyes, that gaze, so full of understanding, sympathy. “I’m going to need you to calm down ok? Can you do that for me?”

He doesn’t know if he can. His heart is pounding in his chest; there’s a ringing in his ears, and blackness swarms along the edges of his vision. He hasn’t had a panic attack like this in years. He shakes his head, trying to push down the agitation that claws through him, but it doesn’t work. 

How can he ever be trusted again? Dean will leave, leave him on the mountain, and he’ll be all alone, just like he deserves. He should never have tried to make this work. He’s ruined everything, like always. Heat crawls up his throat, and when he tries to swallow around the lump, he finds that he can’t, and he chokes, eyes going wide. Darkness swirls at the edges of his vision.

“Cas breathe, okay? In… like me.” Dean takes a deep breath in through his nose, slow and long. “That’s it, hold it for a sec. Good. Now out,” he breathes out steadily through his mouth, his breath puffing warmly into the space between them, and Castiel does the same. “Good job Alpha,” Dean smiles, breathing again slow and exaggerated.

There is fatigue written into every inch of Dean’s body, and soon his hands fall away from Castiel’s cheeks, flopping listlessly on the bed. “Good job, you back with me now?”

“Yes,” Castiel responds, his voice gruff and broken, so low it’s foreign to his ears, more wolf than man. Dean’s eyes flair gold, a little blush rushing to life over his freckled cheeks as he looks away briefly, a small smile on his lips. "How are you feeling?”

“I… me? How am I feeling?” Castiel blinks shocked. “I…”

“You knot for a long time.” Dean cuts in, hips shifting slightly, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he schools it away. “I assume you’re unaware, since… you’ve never, you know.”

“I do?” Castiel asks. He has no idea; he has no basis for comparison. “I...I’m sorry.”

“It’s great, I... lo– It’s great, yeah.” Dean sighs, the blush on his cheeks growing darker. “There nothing an omega wants more than being stuffed full of a nice fat knot during their heat,” he shrugs, not meeting Castiel’s eye. The soft quiet stretches, the room steadily getting lighter as the mountain wakes up from its winter slumber.

“Looks like the storm broke,” Dean says, filling the silence with chatter. His scent slowly going burnt, and he wraps his arms around his chest in the scant space between their bodies. Shielding himself from Castiel, drawing away. Because of course, he would. Castiel took advantage, took Dean against his will because no one would come willingly to a broken alpha like him. “You’ll be able to run away from me again as soon as your knot goes down.”

Castiel scrambles to get his brain online. That’s not what he expected. Rejection, anger, fear, absolutely; he’s a monster, what he did was an act of pure terror. He doesn’t expect Dean’s sadness, his resignation.

“I hurt you. I hurt you so badly, Dean. That’s exactly what I should do. I should run. No, I should throw myself at your feet and beg for your forgiveness.” Even as he speaks his wolf wails inside of his mind, rebelling at the thought of ever leaving Dean’s side again. “I’ve taken... Taken something from you that never belonged to me, to someone like me. And I hurt you; you’re covered in the marks of my violence, my lust. Dean... I’m so sor– Ooh, oh  _God._  Can you stop for jusss–  _uufff_.”

Dean laughs, deep and rolling and soothing, and Castiel drops his head, shoulders bunching, forearms shaking as pleasure rolls up his spine. Dean’s body contracts around Castiel’s aching knot. He never wants another orgasm ever again, or he wants a thousand more, he can't decide. He feels drained dry, as raw and sore as Dean is wet and hot around him. His balls hurt where they are pulled up tight between his legs. He never wants it to stop.

“Shut up for two seconds, you self-sacrificing idiot.” Dean groans, uncrossing his arms and pushing up on Castiel’s shoulders. Castiel tilts back, his knees curling under him as he sits on his heels. Dean slides down the bed, so Castiel’s knot doesn’t pull, their bodies moving in perfect harmony after a night spent learning each other. Dean arches up onto his elbows, spread out in front of Castiel like some kind of alpha wet dream.

“You didn’t take anything from me,” he snaps and Castiel blushes, the heat spreading up his cheeks as he drags his eyes from Dean’s body to his face. “I’ve been trying to give it to you. Fuck, do you have any idea what you do to me?” Dean’s eyes flick back and forth between Castiel’s, astonishment settling over his features, melting the anger away. “You don’t, do you?”

“No, Dean I–” Castiel flounders, his hands flopping in the air until they settle against the meat of Dean’s thighs where they’re draped over his own. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I have no idea what I’m doing,” he admits, weary.

“Okay…This is… Okay, I can work with this.” Dean says tilting his head. “What do I smell like to you?”

Castiel blinks, eyes wide. “What do... you, smell like to me?” he asks confused.

“Yeah man, tell me what I smell like to you. Take a deep breath.” Dean’s eyes glint mischievously. Castiel doesn’t need to take a breath to know Dean’s scent, its burned into his memory, drenched into his skin. He'll never forget it.

“Apples, crisp and so fresh, and honeysuckle. Yes, sweet and soft, inviting, warm like summer time. When you’re stressed, you’ve got more cedar notes, sharp but clean and when you’re upset, like now, it’s burnt around the edges, sooty, but not bad.” Castiel licks his lips, pulling himself from his thoughts eyes lower to where Dean is staring up at him, mouth dropped into a little o-shape, a blush darkening his cheeks and ears.

“W...wow Cas.” Dean smiles shyly. “And um, what about… what’s his name... Benny? What’s Benny smell like?”

He has to think, really think, “Um. Maybe, chili pepper? It’s subtle, could by Cayenne. I… I’m not sure.”

“Do you see a difference there?” Dean asks, a look of triumph fluttering over his features.

“I-I don’t know. Dean please, I’m so tired. I have no idea what any of this means.” Castiel slumps. He wants to curl up around Dean and rub his face over the other man’s body until he smells more like Dean than he does of himself, until he falls back to sleep with Dean’s heartbeat in his ears.

“Okay,” Dean says, adjusting, so he’s propped up on the pillow. “You know when you were little, and your mom told you stories about finding that one person, your true mate?”

“Of course, but they are only stories, Dean.”

“Yeah. No, they aren’t.” Dean says with the kind of finality that Castiel doesn't try to argue. “My parents were true mates. An alpha, alpha pair.”

“Alpha, alpha?” Castiel parrots, astonished. “That is an exceedingly rare occurrence.”

“I know.” Dean says softly, eyes clouding for a moment before “Anyway when they were together–before they died–my mom would tell me there’s a person out there for me, that she knew if she could find dad, I could find you.”

“Me?” Castiel balks. “Dean…. I can’t be... I’m not.”

“Yes. Yes, you are.” Dean snaps, frustrated. “God Cas, I knew this would be difficult, but I didn’t imagine… Look most people, most people, even alphas, can only smell like one scent per person and it’s always the same kinda scent. Like with Benny, you smell a hot spice, you can’t even decide which one.” Dean pauses to roll his eyes. “You don’t get apples, and honeysuckle, and cedar, and you damn sure don’t get sooty and burnt. You’d get like muted spice, or stronger spice, but always just the general spice.” Castiel blinks down at Dean. This isn't be happening. There’s no way. He doesn't deserve...

“Could you imagine if every single person out there had a ton of different smells, like, could you imagine…? How would anyone function? If everyone got as much sensory input as you get from me, Cas?” Dean’s eyes are pleading his brow dipped expectantly. “As I get from you?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Dean. I don’t know any other wolves.” Panic is crawling back up his throat, making it hard to talk. He’s failing; he’s failing Dean.

“Trust me Cas; it’s not like that. Not even for family. My brother,” Dean bites off, his lips compressing, hands fisting tightly before he relaxes. “He smelled like old books. That’s it. When he was angry, he smelled musty. When he was happy, he smelled more like aged paper and old glue. It was nice, familiar but that’s it. Cas, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

“Yes,” Castiel whispers, his ears burning. He understands, but he can’t believe it, there’s no way he would deserve a true mate, there no way Dean—out of all the people in the world who could have shown up on his doorstep so many weeks ago—would be _his_ true mate.

“What you feel for me, it’s different, can’t you tell?”

“Yes, I’m... I’m drawn to you. You drive me crazy, my wolf, it begs me. I’m constantly in flux because I am so scared of pushing you away, of losing you when the thaw comes. But all my wolf wants is to claim you, to have you by my side forever.”

Dean’s breath stutters, his eyes wide as Castiel speaks the truths he’s kept locked up inside of him since Dean set foot on his porch.

“I didn’t know what you would give to me, and I was so afraid to take more than you were willing. I kept running from you because if you rejected me, Dean, I wouldn’t survive it. I’ve been so close to going feral, the edges of my sanity slipping away, season by season. I didn’t know what I needed, how to fix it and I didn’t think anyone would ever want a broken clueless alpha like me. But you Dean… my wolf… _I_ … _We_ need you. You make us whole. You're our missing piece.”

Dean’s quiet for a long moment and Castiel feels exposed, like a raw nerve. When he finally speaks, Dean’s voice is low, his scent rich with freshly blooming honeysuckle.

“Do you know what you smell like to me Cas?” he asks, voice soft as his hands slide up Castiel’s forearms, fingers wrapped around the muscles and pulling Castiel forward.

“Tell me, Dean.”

“Home.”


	11. Purr

With a soft whine, Castiel leans down and gently collects Dean into his arms, cradling his head, their lips brush but go no farther, they breathe against one another's mouths, and Castiel whispers “Dean” softly, so softly and Dean tilts up, opening his mouth. The kiss is slow and sweet, with none of the heat fevered tongue fucking of the night before. And as he relaxes down against Dean’s body, the tension drains from his muscles, and his knot releases, slipping free with a wet, filthy squelch. 

“Ugh…” Dean groans, pulling away. “Gross. I’m going to be leaking for days.” 

“Oh,” Castiel blushes, suddenly unsure. “Is that a thing bad? Is that not normal?” Castiel asks, finally pulling back and flopping down on the bed next to Dean, stretching out his legs with a stiff groan.

“Nah,” Dean shifts, stretching his legs out and giving a little sigh. His hands flop against his stomach. It’s rounded slightly, and he pokes at it gently. “You certainly come like an alpha, you sure you never knotted anyone before?” He side-eyes Castiel.

“Um, no. Never. Was it... Was it alright?” He fidgets slightly before giving into the ridiculous urge he’s having and slides down the bed, lifting Dean’s leg to watch the mix of his come and Dean’s slick slip from his swollen pink hole. Castiel can’t decide if he wants to lick it up or finger it back inside. Instead, he gently releases Dean’s leg, a soft whine escaping his mouth, and causing Dean to laugh.

“Fuck, was it alright?” Dean runs his hands through his hair. “Shit.”

“I’ll do better next time,” Castiel assures him, gently tracing from one small purple hickey to the next along Dean’s collarbone. “If… if that’s something, you want?”

“Cas, if you fuck me any better, I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for a month,” Dean smirks and then his face turns serious. “I know that must have been a lot for you. I remember my first heat. Well actually, I don’t remember much of it, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t recall much of last night either.”

“Not much,” Castiel admits sheepishly.

“I figured.” Dean shifts, groaning as he drops his legs over the edge of the bed. “You went a little caveman on me for a while there. Nothing but one-word answers and growling. I’m totally into it, don’t worry.” Dean’s quick to say as panic flashes hot over Castiel’s skin. “Being able to reduce my alpha to a monosyllabic, growling sex machine, just by being there? Yeah, so hot.” 

Dean’s smile soothes the worry tightening Castiel’s gut. Though he genuinely wishes he had more than just flashes of memory from their first night together, he’s glad he was at least able to satisfy the other man.

“Can we take a shower? I don’t know about you, but I could really,” Dean pauses to lift one of his legs and shiver, “–really use one. I’m not exactly sure how your house works. Can we get hot water with the snow like this? Can we get _any_ water with the snow like this? If you tell me about how this place works, I’ll fill in your memory gaps from last night? Deal?”

“Yes, of course.” Castiel is quick to respond, eager to appease Dean. His muscles protest his sudden jump to action, aching and stiff. Castiel groans his discomfort as he scoots to the edge of the bed and drops his legs over.

“Yeah, come on big guy. We don’t have long before the next round hits.” Dean says, leaning into his side, his broad shoulder dipping as he wraps his arm around Castiel’s ribs.

“There’s more?” he whines.

“Oh yeah, we’re just getting started.”

The shower is blistering warm against Castiel’s skin, but Dean doesn’t seem to mind the heat, groaning in relief, dropping his head back the water cascades over his neck and shoulders. 

“We won’t have a lot of time,” Castiel says softly, his hands–freshly lathered with soap–hover over Dean’s chest, fingering twitching, yearning to touch him. “Maybe thirty minutes of hot water, at the most.”

“Well then you better stop standing there and start cleaning, shouldn't you?” Dean smiles, rivulets of water cascading down his cheek and dripping off his chin. Castiel doesn’t need to be told twice.

He gives his first blowjob in the shower, and the water runs cold by the time Dean is trembling above him. His hands shoved into Castiel’s hair, yanking on the strands as he whimpers, hips thrusting shallowly. Three of Castiel’s fingers are sunk as far as they can go inside Dean’s body.

“Curl them. Yeah, just like that, just like that. A little lower. Faster,  _ fuck _ , Cas, yes.” Dean comes down his throat, thin and salty and Castiel swallows around his cock savoring the flavor. Licking his lips, he stands slowly guiding Dean away from the cold spray when Dean collapses, a soft gasp escaping him as he leans heavily against the wall.

“Dean!” Castiel scrambles forward, catching him and holding him steady, a hand on Dean’s elbow, the other cupping his hip, stopping Dean from he slinking down into the tub.

“It’s fine; I’m fine. Just tired and hungry.  _ Shit _ .” Dean gives an exhausted chuckle as Castiel uses one hand to turn the water off, the other tight around Dean’s elbow to guide him from the tub.

“Let’s get you to bed then.”

“Noooo,” Dean groans, “I spent all night laying with your surprisingly heavy ass on top of me. I don’t want to lay down anymore. You know you’re honestly a lot more solid than I expected for how lean you look.”

Castiel laughs, brows lifting, his wolf huffing at the unsaid challenge, he bends and scoops Dean up into his arms. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to be insulted or flattered.” He says, setting Dean down on the toilet and wrapping him up in a towel, rubbing the water droplets from his chilled skin.

“Flattered,” Dean says as Castiel picks him back up again and Dean smirks, tucking his face under Castiel's chin.

“Hmm, then I’m flattered, I guess.”

He walks them into the living area and is honestly surprised when Dean doesn’t complain about being carried around. It seems like something he would do.  Castiel isn't sure if it's Deans heat or his nature that makes him a cuddler, but as the omega curls his hands ove Castiel's shouders and sighs agasint his neck, he finds he's greatful for it.

“I’m going to put you down on the couch and get you something to eat ok? Then I have to change the bedding.”

“Yeah,” Dean yawns. “Can I get a blanket?”

“Of course,” Castiel says. He sets Dean down on the couch and pulls the knit blanket from the back, wrapping the omega up inside of it. Dean falls asleep almost instantly, so Castiel takes his time. He strips the bed, throwing the sheets into the back room to wash later and grabs another set of linens from storage. They smell musty from disuse. He never fathomed he would need them, three sets of bedding seems excessive for a single man living in a small cabin with only two beds. Normally he uses the one set, they are worn soft with age and use, comfortable in the summer when he prefers to sleep nude. He’s glad for the second set now. 

Retreiving the blanket from the floor, where they’d kicked it the night before Castiel pads over to Dean's room and collects the one from there as well. It smells softly of the omega, and he takes a moment to hold both blankets up to his nose. Their scents blend beautifully, and Castiel realizes it does smell like home. But more then that, it feels like a new beginning, like spring blending seamlessly into summer. Of growth and life.

Like the flowering bushes his mom planted all along the edge of their property when Castiel was a child, and the apple orchard his uncle owned, that’s all Dean. But Castiel is there too, the scent of earth after a summer rain, freshly tilled soil, and the deep dark untouched spaces of the forest. It’s earthy and bright and so perfect that Castiel whines into the blankets, rubbing his face over them to coat himself in their combined scent. 

When he finally drags himself away, he feels different. Settled, content. Also hot, and hard. He yanks the blankets away from his chest, staring in disbelief down at his cock. He’s fully erect, pulsing, his dick steadily rising towards his stomach. “Fuck.”

“Cas!” Dean calls, frustrated, from the front room. 

“How…” Castiel frowns at his dick as he turns taking the blankets and grabing the pillows from Dean’s bed, for good measure, before heading back to the living room.

Dean arches his neck, glancing over his shoulder to catch sight of Castiel. He sighs, a smile slipping over his lips. “Good,  _ fuck _ . I think your dick’s a dowsing rod for the peaks of my heat.”

“Apparently.” He drops the pillows and blankets down on the soft rug by the fire. “Do you think you could hold off for a little bit while I get a few supplies?”

“Yeah totally.” 

“Great, hold tight.” It’s the most natural thing in the world for Castiel to drop a kiss on Dean’s forehead. Then they both freeze. “Uh… sor-”

“No, nope. That was… that was great,” Dean smiles languidly, his eyelids drooping. “That was awesome. I’ll have another if you’ve got one to spare.”

He does, so he leans in, but this time when he presses a slow, leisurely kiss to Dean’s lips, the omega surges up off the couch, sucking air in through his nose, his fingers slipping out from beneath the blanket to curl around Castiel’s neck, urging him to deepen the kiss.

“Dean,” he whispers pulling back, pressing his hands to Dean’s shoulders and gently pushing him back down to the couch. “Give me a second. One second. And I’ll be right back.”

“Yeah. Sure. Hurry, though.” 

Dean’s eyes chase him as Castiel moves around the small front room, burning heat onto his skin like a brand. He grabs a pitcher of water and two glasses along with two packages of his homemade jerky. With everything bundled up between his hands and chest, he slips the pie from last night off the counter and onto his free palm, then brings it all over and sets it on the small coffee table by the fireplace.  

“Cas…” Dean moans his name, and Castiel looks up from where he’s tossing a few logs onto the embers left over from last night. Dean’s sprawled out on the couch, head tipped back, golden eyes glowing from under his drooping eyelids and focused solely on him. Exhilaration expands through his body, making his skin tingle, Dean licks his lips and lets his eyes wander over Castiel’s nude form. 

Dean’s got one arm curled between his legs, fingers squelching between his cheeks as he plunges them inside of himself. His other is gripping his cock, his fist sliding up and down slowly, leisurely, as if he has all the time in the world. As Castiel straightens–the last log slipping from his fingers to drop with a thud to the floor–Dean switches hands, pulling his digits from deep within his body and wrapping them, glistening with slick, around his cock.

His wolf surges and Castiel doesn’t fight it. It ripples under his skin, his muscles bulging, hands fisting and releasing at his sides. His vision darkens as his eyes bleed red, his senses spiking as he lets his wolf prowl just under the surface.

“Make yourself come.” Castiel grows around sharp teeth, slowly stalking forward, closing the scant distance between them. And Dean does as he’s told, breath hiccuping in his throat as if his orgasm is pulled from him on command, taking him by complete surprise. He slumps down against the couch, boneless, and Castiel turns his nose, scenting the sweet bouquet of his release. His mouth floods with saliva, the need to taste, to feel makes him hyperaware. He’s never been this in tune with his wolf before. He feels powerful, in control. Like everything is slotting into place, and it’s all because of the man sprawled, long-limbed and completely nude–so vulnerable and trusting–out in front of him. Castiel won’t let him down.

“This time I’m going to remember,” Castiel says as he reaches out and guides Dean down to the nest of blankets and pillows on the floor in front of the fire. “Every,” he places a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead. “Little,” one to his nose “Detail,” he kisses Dean’s mouth, the omega’s hands fly up to grip his biceps. “Every sound you make is mine, Dean.”

“Yes.”

“Each drop you leak,” Castiel says, his hand fluttering down Dean’s abdomen, dipping along his belly button, “belongs to me,” he breathes into Dean’s skin as his fingers slip down, sliding three smoothly into Dean’s fluttering hole.

“Yes.” Dean groans, arching.

“Because you’re mine.” Castiel groans, teeth scraping along Dean’s jaw.

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean shudders hips lifting “Yours, all yours.”

He grumbles a low sound of pleasure as he shifts to lay back pulling Dean easily over his hips. ”Ride me?”

“Oh, Hell yeah,” Dean smirks, eyes flashing bright and playful. He licks his lips as he sets his knees on either side of Castiel’s hips, rocks back, lifting his ass.

“Nice and slow,” Castiel warns, and Dean’s eyelashes flutter.

“Yes Alpha,” Dean purrs, smirking, his hands sliding up Castiel’s chest, tweaking his nipples and setting fire to his nerve endings as he sinks slowly down onto Castiel’s length.

Choking on air, Castiel’s hands snap to Dean’s hips. “Fuck,” he slurs, watching his cock steadily disappear between Dean’s legs. Sinking into Dean’s heat with his full faculties at his disposal is invigorating. Castiel swallows roughly, licking over his teeth as they lengthen and sharpen in his mouth. Dean is silken smooth and burning hot, his channel fluttering around each new inch of Castiel’s cock that sinks inside of him.

“Oh, Cas. Yes, so good.”

“Tight.”

“So you’ve said,” Dean huffs as he settles, Castiel fully seated inside of him. “A lot” he punctuates his last word by bracing against Castiel’s chest and quickly snapping his hips up and down just once. It rips a growl from deep within Castiel.

“Never been like this before…” Dean rolls his hips in a tight little circle, clenching as Castiel’s cock rocks inside of him. Dean’s mouth falls open, and he pants roughly. 

“Like what?” Castiel squeezes Dean’s hips as he rolls them again, never lifting off, just moving in maddeningly slow circles.

“On top… Feels so good. _Deep_. I can feel every inch of you.”

“Yeah?” Castiel licks his lips, as Dean takes his pleasure, hips shifting back and forward now, his chest heaving. There’s a flush running from his nipples to his collarbones, and in the flickering firelight. He tosses his head back, mouth parted around a silent moan, he’s so beautiful that Castiel would give up anything, everything to keep Dean just like this. Flushed and happy and healthy.

“Yeah…,” he agrees, swallowing roughly. “Big, fills me up so good. Made for me,” Dean rambles dragging his nails down Castiel’s chest as his hips pick up rhythm.

Something about his words loosens a tightness in Castiel that he wasn't aware of it's replaced with new needs, new desires. “Mine,” he snarls, bracing his feet against the floor and bending his knees, he snaps his hips up, burying himself to the hilt.

“That’s it Cas, let it out. Show me your wolf.” Dean braces himself, leaning forward, forearms resting on Castiel’s chest, his long fingers curling up into Castiel’s hair, aligning their faces he whispers, “Make me yours.”

“Mine, my Dean, my omega.” His hips lift, setting a pounding pace, skin smacking skin, slick and wet. Dean’s fingers pull at his hair, fighting to stay upright as Castiel plows into him. Dean comes suddenly, his body constricting, slick flooding from him as his cock gives a small spurt but stays red and erect. Castiel fucks him through it, the scent in the air isn't thick enough to signal a break in Dean’s heat. Dean gulps air throwing his head back crying out again, body shaking, cock leaking thin and clear over Castiel's stomach.

When Dean pries his eyes open, he gasps, slumping wetly down against Castiel’s chest. Castiel wraps him up, sliding his arms around the small of Dean’s back, holding him firm as he angles his hips and sets a slow, steady motion, with long, even strokes that drag him out to the tip before snapping back in again. 

Each time their hips collide Dean grunts, a pleasantly wounded sound, air forced from his lungs in the most enticing manner. He dips his head, rubbing his face along Castiel’s neck. The first time his teeth slide over Castiel’s jugular he snarls. Pleasure so sharp and sudden lights Castiel up, and his hips falter, his claws popping, and he has to take a moment to get himself back under control.

“Like that, Alpha?” Dean slurs, eyelids drooping. “Want me to mark you up, make you mine?”

“Yours,” Castiel agrees without a second thought because he is, he always was, will be. But Dean freezes, lifting his head he blinks at Castiel, his body tight with surprise.

“Cas?”

Castiel stills too; he's baring his soul for Dean, he realizes, confessing something so earnest and pure, putting voice to an emotion he never imagined he would feel. And the way that Dean looks at him, face flushed, lips parted in disbelief. Castiel isn't afraid though, because he’s never been more sure of anything in his life. “I’m yours, Dean,” Castiel says slowly, carefully. 

“Mine?” Dean asks his voice breaking, eyes wide and swimming with moisture.

“Yes,” Castiel responds firmly.

Dean blinks, shaking his head, a tear sliding down his cheek, and he’s quick to swipe it away.

“Yes.” Castiel growls, again, he’ll say it as many times as Dean needs to hear it. Anger flashes through his body at whoever made Dean doubt himself. “Yours,” his hips snap up for emphasis, his knot tingles, swelling, and he forces it in and out passed Dean’s rim making him cry out, body going bow-string tight before collapsing.

“All mine, my Alpha.” He hiccups, voice rough with emotion, hot and breathy into Castiel’s ear. His hands stroke every part of Castiel’s skin he can find. “ _ My Alpha _ ,”

“Yes.” He’ll tell Dean every day for the rest of their lives. “All yours, Dean.”

Dean makes good on his words, biting and sucking and moaning into the flesh of Castiel’s neck and should. And he wants it, God he wants Dean’s bite, his mark, his claim. His wolf craves it, filling his mind with desire, pushing until his thoughts form into words, but Dean gets there first.

“Bite me, Cas. Knot me, bite me, bind me to you forever.”

“Dean...” Castiel moans long and low, his knot swelling. “Are you sure?”

"Yeah, yes Cas." Dean nods meeting his eye and tilting his head back. "I'm sure, I want you. You're my true mate, my only Alpha."

Dean leans forward, and Castiel slides his hands up Dean’s spine, cradling his shoulder blades as his hips become frantic, chasing his orgasm. His lips slide, sucking, seeking over Dean’s shoulder. He knows where he’s going, the spot his teeth–his wolf–ache for. He knows the moment his mouth finds it because his entire body zings with electricity and Dean cries out, his hands yanking in Castiel’s hair.

He pushes up as Dean slams down, his knot locking in place, his teeth elongate and he bites down on Dean’s neck. Blood and sweat and the sweet hot flavor of Dean’s skin explode in his mouth. Dean twitches on top of him, hips rolling in little abortive circles as his howls turns low and soft, melting into a purr. Castiel comes deep inside of him, jaw tense as Dean rumbles into his ear. Carefully he pulls back, tongue lapping at the wound, purring his contentment as he cleans his mating mark.

Castiel feels complete in a way he never thought was possible for him. Whole and right and essential. An alpha with a purpose and a mate. But it's more than that; it’s Dean. It’s the sound of his voice when he sings; it’s the fluffy, flustered look he sports in the mornings. It's his unabashed love of food and the way he falls asleep by the fire when he reads. Castiel looks forward to learning and falling in love with everything about Dean, his omega, his mate.  _ His _ .

“Now me, Dean.” Castiel manages once he’s found his voice. He gives one last kiss to Dean’s neck, satisfied that his bite is clean and will heal nicely. “Make me yours.”

Dipping, Dean traces the muscle of Castiel’s right shoulder with this tongue and lips, sucking softly on the skin before moving to his left. He knows the instant Dean finds what he’s looking for because the omega goes liquid over him, purring softly. His fingers flutter against Castiel’s scalp before, quite suddenly, he bites. 

Clean, bright pain erupts through Castiel’s body clensing and raw like the first growth after a forest fire. Dean’s bite brands him, rebuilds him, taking all of his broken, worthless pieces and stitching them back together, better than before, because now he belongs to Dean. And all the world will know it. 

The pain fades quickly, replaced with a wash of ecstasy that has Castiel coming again, cock pulsing hotly inside Dean’s body as the omega licks and sucks at his mark on Castiel’s skin. 

The low, soothing rumble of Dean’s purr resonates from deep inside of him vibrating agasint Castiel's chest, it matches Castiel’s in perfect harmony. _His mate._


	12. Horizons

Dean stretches out, settling his legs on either side of Castiel's, his toes gently brushing over the outside of Castiel’s ankles. Castiel runs his fingertips over the puckered flesh of Dean’s back, and after a few moments of tension, Dean relaxes.

“Your scars don’t matter to me, Dean.”

“It… it’s just hard. I’m hideous, disfigured. I hate them, I hate what happened to me, but I can’t keep holding on to it, not when it led me here to you.”

“I don’t think you’re hideous and you’re certainly not disfigured, Dean.” Castiel says more firmly then he means to, “Please don’t think those things about yourself... If I ever find out who did this to you, I will kill them, on that you can count. I promise no one will ever hurt you again.”

Dean huffs a laugh, mouthing along the underside of Castiel’s jaw. “Alright, alright, calm down my little Alpha. There’s no need to avenge my honor, or whatever; I don’t want my past bloodying our future.”

Castiel hums thoughtfully, “That's fair, Dean. Of course.” His hands trip down Dean’s lower back to slip along the curve of his ass.

“How long do we have?” Castiel wonders aloud.

“Knotted? Hum, your longest one was the first one; I thought we’d never come apart.” Dean chuckles, “An hour and a half of you grumbling and twitching and pressing me into the mattress. Promising to breed me up, fill me full of your pups, get me round and huge with your seed." Dean's eyes are playful, but Castiel blushes all the same. 

Because yes, he wants that. He wants to watch Dean grow large with the results of their mating, he wants to see pups with bright green eyes, and dark brown hair, and freckles. His cock twitches hard, and Dean gasps, his eyes narrowing knowingly.

"I don't know how many times you made me bare my throat to you,” he goes on, teasing, purposefully ignoring the way Castiel's knot throbs with renewed vigor inside of him. There’s a lightness to Dean's tone; only Castiel can't seem to shake the shame he feels at the abundance of steadily fading marks along Dean’s neck and collarbones. “That was the first one, and I can’t blame you, losing your virginity to an omega in heat, let alone your true mate? Man, I’m surprised you held your shift back as well as you did."

Castiel knows he’s blushing, the rush of heat makes his skin burn like it's on fire. “Dean…” he starts, the apology heavy on his tongue.

“Oh no man, fuck that. You better not be apologizing to me right now. I’ve never felt so wanted in my life. You have no idea how many times I came on your knot.” His voice goes soft and dreamy as if he’s reliving the memory and he slides his hips back, his body fluttering around Castiel's knot. Castiel grips Dean's hips to still him, as his toes curl with pleasure. 

“After you got the initial claiming out of your system,” Dean breathes, his hands sliding up Castiel’s chest to loop around his neck “...you seem to last about thirty to forty-five minutes. Which honestly is nice. Longer than usual but that's not a bad thing. It’s good, really.” Dean cracks a yawn, his eyes drifting to the mark he put on Castiel’s neck. “I get to rest and my head’s clearer during those times so, you know….”

“I don’t know. I’m running purely on instinct most of the time, but I’m sure if I do something wrong you will inform me.”

“Yeah. Though, I have to say that so far, your instincts are spot on. Definitely pointing you in all the right directions," Dean smirks, "Maybe it's ‘cause you’re so pent up” he waggles his eyebrows, his slow grin flashing beautiful white teeth, “but for someone who keeps claiming they don’t know what they’re doing, this has to be the best heat I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you, Dean, that means a lot to me.” Castiel can’t help smiling back at him. His hands absently stroking the luxurious curve of Dean’s ass as he thinks for a moment. “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. I mean I’m usually hungry, but right now it's more important that I stay hydrated. Can you reach the water?”

“Of course.” Castiel arches back, his fingers looping around the handle of the water pitcher, but the motion changes their position so drastically that Dean gasps, his body pulling and contracting around Castiel’s knot, hips grinding down, and Castiel orgasms again, losing his hold on the pitcher as he scrambles to grip Dean's hips. His cock twitches, seed pumping thickly, filling the spaces inside of Dean’s body, molten hot.

It's in the few minutes before both he and Dean recover enough to try again, that Castiel’s mind drags the ghost of a thought back to him, _pups_.  His thumbs trace the slightly distended curve of Dean's lower abdomen, and Castiel craves what he should not. Carefully, he pushes the thoughts away, thankful enough for Dean; there’s no need to wish for more. Even if, in his pheromone induce haze, he confessed those desires so openly.

“This isn’t going to work.” Dean shakes his head, smiling. He nips at Cas’s lips pulling him from his thoughts, and they both laugh softly, sweat-slick and sticky, their stomachs a mess from Dean’s orgasms.

“No, I think not.” Castiel agrees, surveying their situation. “Hmm, hold onto my shoulders, let me try something.”

Carefully, Castiel scoots back, taking the tangle of blankets and pillows with him until he's sitting up, back pressed against the base of the couch. He adjusts Dean, careful of where they are still connected, so that he’s sitting in Castiel’s lap, his knees pressing against Castiel’s hips. The crackling fire silhouettes Dean's back and he’s breathtaking in the halo of light, with flush warmed skin and softly parted lips.

“There, that's better. " Castiel finally manages, Dean meeting his eye with a playful smirk, "Let me know if you need to stretch out your legs.” Dean hums a noise of agreement as Castiel reaches out and grabs the pitcher, filling a glass and handing it to him. Dean easily drains three glasses before sighing and taking the fourth much more slowly.

“You brought snacks?” He asks, eyes bright.

“Um, yes let's see what I managed to grab.” Castiel reaches out and pulls the packages of jerky towards them. “This is fruit jerky, mixed berries, and this is one is venison. Um, venison is...”

“I know what venison is, Cas,” Dean cuts rolling his eyes and taking a strip, “you requested someone good with the outdoors in your email. I can hold my own out here.” Dean bites into the strip, humming happily. “You make all this yourself?”

“Oh, yes. I guess you could say I have a lot of time on my hands.”

Dean flips the strip of jerky back and forth between his fingers; his head tipped low. His scent sours the longer he’s quiet.

“Dean, what just happened?” Castiel asks, tucking his first knuckle under Dean’s chin, lifting his face until their eyes meet.

“Ok, so… I saw the email.”

“The email?”

“Yeah, Cas, I saw the rejection email you sent to _Hand &Paw_. The one that never made it. The one you wrote canceling your request for me? That's why I've been so upset.”

“Oh... oh Dean, you must know by now, that if I knew, If I knew _you_ were coming to me I would have never tried to cancel my request. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

“I mean, yeah. I know that now.” Dean rolls his eyes, taking another bite of the jerky and talking around it. “But back then I didn’t. I thought I was just something you were barely tolerating until you could get rid of me. And since you saw my scars, fuck, I knew it was only a matter of time till you sent me packing.”

“How could you think that?” Castiel asks, his hands curling around Dean’s ribs, holding him close.

“How could I not? You even couldn’t stand to be in the house with me; you seemed to run from any room I was in. You almost never touched me unless you were scent marking me. It was driving me crazy. Smelling you, knowing what you were to me but having you pull away from me. Not realizing what we could be, what we are.” Dean takes another strip of jerky, the fruit one this time, and smiles in surprise as he bites it.

“That wasn’t my intention.” Castiel tries, but Dean dismisses him with a flick of his hand in the space between them.

“I know that now, honestly, if I’d know you were some clueless virgin alpha, I would have just sat you down and told you what the hell was happening, but I didn’t. I thought you were being nice until you could get rid of me. Your email was so clear: a beta, good with the outdoors and quiet, which ok I’m not great with quiet, but I’ve been managing that…. self-motivating, independent. I kinda felt like I was reading a job posting." Dean jokes, but his smile slips away too easily 

"Then you said you’ve never had a pack before, and there was no obligation or hard feelings if you and the candidate didn’t click. I admit that was scary, but my caseworker, Charlie, she thought I would be a good fit. That if your background check came back clean, we’d try it. If you sent me back, you sent me back.” Dean shrugs. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Castiel opens his mouth, unsure of what to say to that when Dean goes on.

“But then I got here, Cas, and I saw you, smelled you, and it was like everything I’ve ever wanted all at once.” Dean takes a deep breath, his shoulders—which had steadily risen in tension as he spoke—relax. “And I knew you had to feel something for me. I hoped, anyway, because there were times when you would smell like arousal. So thick and powerful I wanted to lift my shirt and expose my belly to you, but int he next second it would be gone. And you'd be gone, and I was left here alone and confused.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Dean. Im so sorry, I’ve never been faced with a temptation like you. I’ve never had to deal with arousal outside of my biannual rut.”

“You only rut twice a year?” Dean exclaims.

“Yes?” Castiel blinks. “Is that abnormal?”

“I mean, everyone’s different, but I think you’re supposed to rut like every two or three months. Maybe alphas who aren’t living like a hermit on the side of a mountain rut more because they face more competition to their claims and packs. At least, that’s my guess.”

“That could be it. I have a book around here somewhere; we can look into it once we're...um..” Castiel drops his eyes, and Dean snorts.

“I mean, it explains a lot honestly. I bet you’ll rut more now that we’re mated.” Dean smirks, lifting his eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe…” Castiel agrees cautiously, the memory of his instincts driving him to impregnate Dean, to see him round and swollen with their pups flashes across his mind. “Drink some more before you monologue about my ruts further.”  

“I’m not monologuing, Cas. I’m not some evil Bond villain telling you my plans for world domination before I set the laser beam on you. That is unless I’m going to kill you through orgasms.”

“Let’s hope not. Also, I don’t understand that reference… Bond?”

“Oh my god. Well,” Dean looks around. “It’s not like you have a TV, how could you even know the joys of James Bond, let alone John McClane.”

“Dean….”

“No worries Cas; you said Benny could get you anything, right? Next winter, we're going to spend it snuggled up on that couch watching all the movies I can get my hands on. You ever made popcorn over that fire?” Dean gestures over his shoulder.

“I… can’t say that I have,” Castiel responds slowly, his entire body warmed by the thought of spending year after year, season after season with Dean. And the fact that Dean is not only looking forward to it, but making plans for it, makes Castiel’s heart swell painfully behind his ribs. So, of course, it’s at that moment his knot slips free, come and slick oozing out with it and this time they both grimace.

“What I wouldn't give for another shower.” Dean groans, shifting off Castiel’s lap and reaching for one of the blankets to wipe between his legs.

“Drawbacks of living off the grid like this,” Castiel says and he’s suddenly overcome with an insane urge. He reaches out and stops Dean from further soiling the covers. “Let me?”

Dean makes a questioning noise but releases the blanket and Castiel takes the oportunity to  rearranges them once again. He lays Dean out on his stomach in front of the fire, the blankets piled up around them to keep out the chill.

“What’cha doing, Alpha?” Dean asks, looking over his shoulder.

“Shhh, I just need…” Castiel spreads Dean’s cheeks, fingers already slippery from their combined release. “Can I?”

“Shit.” Dean curses, nodding his head vehemently, pulling a pillow towards him and folds it up under his face. “Please?”

Castiel groans, lowering and licking a long stripe through the mess. It’s dense and sweet, and before he realizes what he’s doing, he’s pressing his mouth to Dean’s opening and lapping inside. 

Dean's loose and soft, and yields beautifully to Castiel’s mouth, to the piercing stretch of his tongue, and Castiel can’t think, can’t fathom anything beyond Dean’s twitching muscles under his palms and the soft sounds slipping passed the omega’s lips. Castiel licks and sucks and nips until there is nothing left and then he gently turns Dean onto his back and starts over, adoring Dean’s flesh with his mouth until Dean is arching and grunting, broken breaths panting passed his lips and is once again coming down Castiel’s throat.

“Fuck showers,” Dean says with a sigh, laying limply next to Castiel. “I never want to shower again; you’re going to lick me clean after every orgasm, forever.”

Castiel can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t threaten me with a good time, Dean.” He’s delighted when Dean crows with laughter, his face bright and open, and so youthful.

“Oh my god, I love you,” Dean announces between hiccups, wiping his eyes. Like he has no idea what he just said, what he just did to Castiel's heart. He stretches back and grabs the pie, sitting up he dips his fingers into the center and pulls a sugary sweet apple from its depths. He holds it out to Castiel's stunned mouth. “I feel like you think you could live off my slick alone but, that’s not actually a thing, Cas. If we’re going to keep this up till my heat ends, I’m going to have to get some actual food in you.”

When Castiel only blinks at him, Dean says, “Open wide,” his head tilting, a playful smile brightening his face. And Castiel complies, too shocked to do anything else and Dean slips the fruit between his teeth. 

The last person who told him he was loved was Anna, blood oozing from her neck as he pressed his palm to the wound in an attempt to stem the flow. _I love you Castiel. I love you. I’m sorry_.

“Good, huh?” Dean’s voice pulls him from the memory of his sister’s last moments. _Don’t look back_ , he reminds himself, taking in every feature of Dean’s face, and finding some semblance of calm there. 

Usually, when he thinks of his sister, his family, he only feels pain, stuck reliving the last bloody moments of their lives. But with Dean at his side–someone who sees him as worthy of love, someone to live for–another memory surfaces.

“ _Don’t look back, Cassie, look to the horizon, to the future and have faith._ ” Anna’s voice was strong, her eyes bright and face vibrant as she held his hand. “ _There’s nothing to be afraid of. What do we do when we are scared?_ ”

“ _Look to the horizon and have faith._ ” Castiel had responded, and she’d ruffled his hair.

That was just like Anna, always creeping in when Castiel–no, _Cas_. Dean calls him Cas and a new life deserves a new name–needs him most. Reminding him that the past is a place for memories, good, bad, indifferent. Why had it taken him so many years to listen to her? Anna was his closest sibling–bar his twin–and it’s time for him to remember her life, not just her death.

“Exceptionally, delicious,” Cas whispers, not trusting his voice.

Dean hums softly, lifting some crust and filling to his own mouth. He groans, eyes closing in bliss, completely, unabashedly stunning, sitting in his bare skin enjoying such a small thing as pie with all of his self. Cas succumbs to the moment, leaning forward and capturing Dean’s mouth in a heated kiss.

“And… I love you too.” Cas says softly, resting their foreheads together.

“Mmm,” Dean hums, pulling back like it’s not a surprise like he knew all along. He holds out another sliver of apple and Cas takes it greedily, sucking Dean’s fingers into his mouth.

“Of course you do.” Dean says with a wink, “I'm a goddamned gift.”


	13. Novak

Hours later, they’ve set the remaining scraps of pie aside and hauled themselves off the floor, straightening up the living room and organizing the blankets, pillows, and for some reason–Dean insists, a blush turning the tips of his ears red–three of Cas’s dirty shirts, into a proper nest in front of the fire. 

It only takes a little while for them to realize that though, the pie was delicious; it’s not actually filling. Cas takes the stew back out of the fridge and makes Dean eat two bowls before devouring not only what remains, but also breaking out some chop meat and cooking a stack of burgers––much to Dean’s delight. They hunker back down, snuggling together in the nest of bedding, reading. Well, Cas is reading, Dean is snoozing on his chest. It’s so domestic, so peaceful; it's something Cas never even dared to dream he would have. Gently, he runs his fingers through the damp hair at Dean's nape.

“Will you tell me about them?” Dean asks, his fingers stalling for a moment from where he’s tracing small circles over Cas’ sternum.

Slowly, Cas sets down his book. Dean shifts so his chin is resting on Cas’ pectoral, green eyes wide and expectant. “Will you tell me about your family?”

It’s a bit of a loaded question. There’s no turning back now, not that he would want to, and he wants Dean to know everything about him. And sure, maybe they rushed into this a little bit, perhaps it would have been better to pull all the ghosts and skeletons out of their closets before binding themselves to one another, but Cas refuses to regret anything that led him to Dean. 

So, with a small sigh, he rests back against his pillow, folding an arm under his head. Memories of his family are more than just their deaths, he reminds himself. There is so much light and joy and history and, quite suddenly, Cas realizes that he wants to share it. He wants to let someone know about his family, his pack.

“I have nothing to hide from you, Dean.” Cas says, “And I want you to know about them. More than just what happened to them. I want you to know about their lives, who they were, the pack you should have had.” Dean returns his smile, adjusting at Cas' side to recline in a more comfortable position. 

“I want to get to know them,” Dean says gently. “Tell me everything.”

He takes a moment, looking up at the ceiling, sorting his memories for a place to start. All the while, his fingers stroke over the broad stretch of Dean’s shoulder, skimming over the scars. Momentarily anger flashes hot through Cas’ chest. He takes a slow breath, calming his ire with Dean’s post-orgasmic scent of contentment.

“And will you tell me about…” Castiel pauses, running his hand down Dean’s spine, letting the pads of his calloused fingers trace over the imperfections of Dean's skin.

The silence stretches and Cas wonders if he’s already managed to ruin this thing happening between them, but Dean doesn't draw away. If anything he snuggles closer, dropping his head back to Cas’ chest.

“Yeah. I will… just, not tonight, not yet.” Dean breathes out long and slow. “It’s not because I don’t want you to know, it’s just that I’ve spent so long dealing with what happened to me that I… I want to have one good night without thinking about it. Is that ok?”

“Of course Dean. I will be here when you are ready.” He thinks for a moment, sliding his hand back up Dean’s spine and cupping his neck. Dean melts against him, bending into his palm with a soft noise. “Can I ask something else, then? Humor me, please, keeping in mind my inexperience.”

“I mean, ask me your question, and I’ll see if I know the answer,” Dean says generously.

“Fair enough. If it is called a heat, why are you so cold? What purpose does it serve for you to be unable to maintain an appropriate body temperature?”

"Oh, yeah, that one’s easy. Normally were’s run hot, right? It’s part of our biology, the reason we don’t normally get sick since, you know, our core temperature is too high for any kinda disease to take hold. I mean it might be different for you, being a full-shift were, but at least for me, I’ve only been sick once in my life, and it was bad.” Dean scrunches his nose at the memory. 

“Anyway... an omega’s body temperature drops during a heat so that we have a better chance of pupping. Usually, we run too hot for the eggs to survive and grow. Heats are like a cool down period. Once an omega is knocked up, hormone levels keep our temperature cooler to protect the egg until it's big enough to survive the warmer climate. I think, anyway I slept through most of my health classes."

"What about..." Cas starts, but Dean smiles.

"What about you turning into a furnace?" Dean asks, and Cas nods, his brows lifting. 

"That's the weirdest part. When there's an alpha who's a good match for an omega in heat–and it’s gotta be someone who's, on a genetic level, good for breeding, not just good for fucking or something–they’ll heat up. It's supposed to balance out the omega’s drop in temperature.” 

“I’ve never had an alpha heat up for me the way you did. Didn’t think it would ever happen, but damn if it didn’t turn you into a beacon of sexy molten hot alpha. I was drawn to you and all the heat you were pumping out like crazy. It didn’t help that you smelled amazing. So much richer than normal, and you’re pretty fucking delicious on a regular day,” Dean sighs. 

He's quiet for a long time, but Cas gets the sense that more is coming, so he waits, his fingers brushing through the short strands of Dean's hair.  His patience is eventually rewarded. 

“I felt guilty at first like I was forcing you. Like you had no say in the matter, and all of your reactions were due to some kinda pheromones cocktail I was releasing that told your wolfy brain that I was primed for the taking. Every time I tried to seduce you, though, you didn’t cave, I knew it couldn't be just biology…” 

“No, just me being an idiot.” Cas fills in, because it’s the truth.

“Right, just you being a virgin idiot who knew nothing about wolves in heat.” Dean rolls his eyes, “That’s, not––no, Cas. It’s not your fault you didn’t know what was going on with me… Anyway, the point is that your temperature rose to encourage us to get it on.” Dean smirks, his fingers stroking over Cas’ forearm where it’s wrapped around his shoulders. 

“I mean, I guess it’s pretty cool. Man, if my brother could hear me now, he'd be so impressed, health and sciences weren't my best subjects. I was always more of a math and technology kinda guy." Dean rolls onto his back next to Cas, his fingers softly tapping on the skin above his belly button. " You know what would be real fucked up? Imagine standing in your office and dropping into a sudden heat and then your boss just start fucking sweating like crazy? Talk about awkward." 

"I guess that would be very strange. Yes." Cas agrees, slightly overwhelmed with all the new information.

"Yep." Dean says. "The same thing will happen during your rut, my temperature will drop and I’ll go through a very brief heat like period.”

“So you’re saying I'm overheating because you didn’t have enough heat?” Cas asks. "And that's why it’s called a ...heat?"

“Yeah, exactly. Stupid right? …How many siblings did you have?”

“Six,” Cas responds without thinking about it, caught off guard by the topic change.

“Wow.”

“Yes, my pack was large. The Novak line traces back to the earliest settlers, and being one of the oldest packs in North America we were quite prolific. There were over thirty immediate blood relatives that comprised the core pack. We all lived on the estate with close to sixty others under our protection. They didn’t always live with us, but we had monthly runs, and everyone would show up. It was lovely.”

Cas closes his eyes, the memory vivid in his mind. So many people, so much love, and happiness. Chasing one another through the wilderness, running behind the Alpha until the children cried out with yips and howls and those who could shifted to keep up with the adults. Tiny wolves sprinted in and out between legs, nipping at heels and tumbling over one another in play. 

They would run all night, and when the dawn broke over the horizon, they’d return to the estate, to a feast prepared by some of the townspeople under the pack’s protection. Then they would sleep piled up together, so many bodies curled against one another, heedless of the sweat and dirt of the night before. They only craved closeness, to reaffirm their pack bonds. A soft exhale from Dean reminds Cas of all he has to look forward to now, before the familiar sadness of all he’s lost can well up inside of him.

“Shit,” Dean breathes out, eyes wide. “I’ve never seen a pack bigger than twenty. It must have been amazing. My mother’s pack had five.” He licks his lips and says, “What were their names?”

“Let’s see. Gabriel, Balthazar, Uriel, Hannah, Michael, and Anna are the names of my siblings. Gabriel was the oldest, followed by Anna. Hannah and I were the youngest.”

“Twins?” Dean asks.

“Yes, but as different as night and day. Hannah was joyful and adventurous, always getting into something, wild and beautiful, her smile was contagious. She was the first between us to shift into her wolf form. Her fur was a beautiful chocolate brown, and she had eyes like the sky before a storm. I was more subdued, cautious, and my wolf came to me much later, just slightly before I presented. We were two sides of the same coin and completely inseparable.”

“She sounds amazing,” Dean says.

“You would have liked her.” Castiel agrees, thinking of how much his sister's sly smiles reminds him of Dean’s.

“What happened to them?”

“Greed,” Cas responds, bitter emotions twisting in his chest. “I… I had an uncle… who, before I even made it to my tenth year, split from the pack. He was angry with my mother for ascending to the Alpha status after my grandfather died. Luke was older than she, and normally the eldest alpha takes over responsibility and leadership for the pack. But Luke, he was angry, deceitful, something in him twisted and corrupt. He felt like the pack owed him. He often talked about how we should be thankful to him, show him more respect and adoration as our future Alpha, even before my grandfather passed on. Many in the pack feared what he would be like with true power over our lives.”

“Wow, sounds like a real dick bag.”

“Yes, that he was. To say there was relief when my mother got the Alpha Rites was an understatement, but it only fueled Luke’s rage. He left us, but not before vowing to make the pack pay for snubbing him his birthright.”

Cas remembers the night. Standing behind Anna, her hands gripping his and Hannah’s tightly, keeping them behind her as Anna took her place at Naomi’s right–supporting their mother and Michael as they faced down Luke. His mother’s eyes glowed red, her face half shifted into her beta-form, brows, thick and heavy, the bridge of her elegant nose now wide and flat, ears pointed, jaw jutting heavy with fangs, and claws—long and deadly—sliding from her fingertips.

And Luke was shouting at her; his beta-form-a monstrous thing, features twisted, half man and half wolf–not nearly as elegant as his mother’s beta-form. Lukes' eyes flashed with his rage, and he spat venom–curses–promises of retribution. Naomi, Michael, and a few of the elder pack members were forced to chase Luke from their boundary. 

It broke his heart—to hear the soft sobs of his mother mourning the loss of her only brother. Of having to expel him from their home. Cast understands now that she was feeling their bond break and die. He knows how painful that is.

“He got his retribution,” Cas says, letting the memory go, opening his eyes and looking around the small cabin, more and more details come back to him. Now that he’s opened the door on his past, he’s unable to stop the stream of words. They flow out of him and with their release he finds peace.

“Luke made his own pack. Full of lost, desperate, almost feral wolves who were blinded by his silver tongue. Blinded by all of the promises he made and the weight that came with the Novak name...” Cas’ throat grows tight as the memories surge like tidal waves within him.

He licks his lips, fighting back the images of his loved ones—his family, ripped to shreds and left to rot out on the once lush, green lawns of their estate. “Those wolves would do anything for him, and they did. He launched an attack on the pack, struck during one of our full moon runs when everyone was there, so happy and unsuspecting. Not ready to fight for their lives. The children…” Cas pauses, emotions so thick in his throat that he has to swallow roughly, and even then it’s difficult to speak. Dean runs a soothing hand over his chest; it gives him the strength to say, “They slaughtered everyone.”

There wasn’t enough left of Luke’s pathetic excuse for a pack to press charges, the authorities eventually called it a territory dispute, and there was no one of the Novak pack—of Castiel’s family—left. Cas was alone. Alone, stumbling through the world without guidance, without training, without pack or family. One moment he had everything anyone could ask for, and then next he had nothing.

“Shit, Cas. I–I don’t know what to say…” Dean gently strokes his fingertips over Cas’ face, 

“You know what, after living so long in the darkest parts of my memories, keeping everything caged up inside of me, it's kind of nice to let them out. Let them go.”

“Do you want to continue?”

“I think so,” Cas says after a moment.

“How did you escape?” Dean asks softly, his hand wrapping to cup Cas’ neck, thumb stroking the bolt of his jaw.

“I wasn’t there. I had just presented, and it’s tradition to spend a week in the mountains and forests that surrounded the estate. To get to know your wolf, being in nature helps ease the transition, it makes the wolf feel less foreign. It helps the human and wolf become in tune with one another as the new abilities and senses coming into awareness.”

“Huh, I don’t know any full-shift wolves, so I’m not sure what it's like. My senses didn’t really change after I presented.”

“It’s different, more intense. The wolf is so primal, running on instinct and sensory input. You need time to… acclimate to the change. It’s best done without the presence of other wolves. Especially for an alpha, they... _we_ , can be territorial, easily threatened.”

“So you just came back from a week in the mountains and found your family like that?”

Castiel sighs, “Not exactly. It’s a strange thing, the alpha hierarchy in full-shift wolf packs. You don’t just become 'The Alpha'; it's passed to you. I have no clear idea how, and I never got a chance to learn. All I know is that it has something to do with either death of the current Alpha or a ritual. If the Alpha dies the next eligible alpha of the bloodline will inherit the pack bonds immediately, as I did."

"So Luke was trying to...  _ kill _ your mom to take the Alpha Rite from her?"

"Yes," Cas says quietly. "As the eldest alpha of our pack, it would have gone to him had he managed to kill her."

"So, wait, how did your mom become Alpha?"

"The ritual." Cas licks his lips and scrunches his nose trying to remember. "When the Alpha grows old and wishes to step down there is a ritual they can perform to hand off the Rite to their chosen successor, usually their second in command. Someone they've been training to take on the weight and responsibility of the pack bonds."

"Michael?" Dean asks.

"Yes, in our case Michael was being groomed to take over, because after all, he was the most eligible. The eldest alpha presented of the bloodline and my mother, Naomi, was taking steps to ensure the pack transition would go smoothly when it was her time to step down. I don’t know how it’s done in other packs. Our blood is old, tied to the land and the moon. We respect the customs of our ancestors, my mother would say, and because we never forgot their teachings is why the wolf still walks within us. Why we can full shift.”

“Wow.” Dean breathes out. “That’s, wow.”

They're quiet for a long while after that, but it’s a comfortable silence. Cas’ thoughts drift to the estate, about the books and treasures of his family he left behind. Maybe one day he will go back, take Dean with him, and together they can learn about Cas’ past. Continue on the traditions of the Novak pack, honor his ancestors as his mother once did. One day.

“How many alphas were in your family?” Dean prompts. “From what I understand it's not normal for more than one, maybe two, in a pack.”

“Usually you'd be right. And that's normally due to the alpha drive to nurture and provide for their own pack. In ours, no one really ever challenged for the Rite. We were content to be under the care and guidance of my mother, and my grandfather before her. But to answer your question, there were four of us. My mother Naomi, her brother Luke, my brother Michael, and then me. Which apparently was a surprise since Hannah presented as a beta and usually twins present the same.”

“Wow. So what happened? How did you end up here, in the woods by yourself?”

“I ran,” Castiel says, and shame burns hotly in his chest. “Luke planned to kill Michael and then my mother. To take out all of the alphas in the bloodline and force the Rite to pass to him. He didn’t count on her fighting back like she did, mistook her kindness for weakness, and forgot how fierce she could be. I knew something happened when it came to me, the Rite. It shouldn’t have been possible. I should never have even been an option, but I felt it–the weight of responsibility, all the bonds to the pack, so fragile, so tenuous–snap into place in my chest. I knew something terrible had happened.”

“By the time I made it back to the estate it was all over. Luke and most of his pack were dead, and mother was so badly injured that she died before I could get to her. Only Anna remained alive, and it was too much. I was so young, I couldn’t save her, help her… she died in my arms. It… scarred me.” Cas sucks in a wet breath, chest rattling, in the face of his memories. “The Alpha Rite made everything so much more intense, I could feel each bond snapping, each life that drained away felt like a bone breaking inside of me. It was a lot for a teenager whose only previous concerns were midterms and who I’d be taking to the spring formal.” Cas bites his lip, fighting between the memory of Anna and Hannah picking out his suit and the blood that stained his hands for days after their deaths. 

“So I ran. With Luke gone, I didn’t know if the rest of his pack would try to come after me. I turned to my wolf, and I stayed like that for a long time, running until I couldn't anymore. I didn’t know if Luke knew how I presented, I couldn’t be sure I was safe... Would his pack come for me? The last remaining Novak? Hunt me down? I know it probably wasn’t the best choice but…”

“Cas, you’re kidding right?” Dean asks sitting up, his face incredulous. “You were a kid, what could you have done? You were scared and you just witnessed the death of your entire family. I don't think I would have ever stopped running if I were you.”

“I should have been there.” Cas says, eyes dropping.

“What? No. No way, Cas. Why? So you’d be dead now too? No, none of what happened was your fault, and holding onto any sort of guilt is just… no.” Dean pushes up to his knees, his hands lifting to cup Cas’ face. “What could you have done? You were like fourteen! Did you even know how to throw a punch at that point? I doubt it.” Dean’s eyes are earnest, his gaze steady. “I’m glad you ran. I’m sure it’s what your family would have wanted. I’m sure they would want you to be happy, to love, and to live your life to the fullest. Not to wallow in their deaths, in misery, but to remember them, to heal and to move on.” Dean searches his face, eyes shining with emotion. Gently he rubs Cas’s cheeks with his thumbs, fingers wiping at the sudden wetness. 

“I’m so glad you’re still here,” Dean whispers, voice rough, “I know I’m so fucking selfish for thinking this, but I’m glad you were away when they attacked. That you’re here now, that you’re mine, and that we get this change to rebuild our lives together. Both of us come from such darkness Cas, but that doesn’t mean we have to stay there. We can look to the future together.” 

Tears slip free from his eyes, and Dean kisses them away. Anna’s memory is warm and bright inside of him as Dean speaks, saying words similar to her own.  _ Look to the horizon, Cassie _ . Reminding Cas of tomorrows, of the future she always headed towards.

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says wrapping Dean up in his arms, and pulling him until their chests press together, needing to feel the steady beat of Dean’s heart against his own. “How do you stay so positive?”

“Therapy,” Dean says with a shrug. “I used to be really bad with my words, my emotions. Charlie called me an ‘ _ emotionally constipated hedgehog’ _ for years. All spikes on the outside but soft mush on the inside. She helped me get into therapy to deal with my trauma and to better express myself. It works, you know––therapy, if you’re ever interested in trying it out.”

“I–I’m not opposed,” Cas says with a smile, and it’s true. He wants to get better, wants to let go of all his darkness.

“Awesome,” Dean says with a mischievous smirk as he slides up to straddle Cas’ hips. “I know this isn’t the most appropriate time, but I’m still in heat, and another spike is creeping up on me. Think you’re up for it?”

“Yes,” Castiel confirms, surprised to find he is. That the melancholy he normally feels after discussing his past is only a dull ache lodged somewhere behind his sternum, instead of an all-consuming void. “I think reaffirming our bond is just what I need right now.”


	14. Howl

The spikes of Dean’s heat grow further and further apart as the days bleed together. He’s able to spend long stretches of time away from Cas’ side, puttering around the cabin. He has a penchant for cooking food and bringing it to Cas as he reads or whittles by the fire. The little rocking horse for Benny’s pup is taking shape nicely.

Dean’s temperature has steadily returned to normal, he’s no longer freezing and seems more comfortable now than he was a few days ago. He’s wearing a loose, long sleeve thermal and a pair of faded sweats salvaged from the back of Cas’ dresser. Cas is used to a solitary life, and being comfortable in his skin he and opts to go nude more often than not, much to Dean’s delight as it allows the omega easy access to Cas’ body. Not that Cas is complaining.

“How long does a heat usually last?” Cas asks one morning. Dean looks up at him, eyes large and bright green, little flares of gold fading and flaring to life as he suckles, lips stretched around the head of Cas’s cock. Dean twirls his tongue around the tip and Cas groans abdominals flexing with the effort of keeping his hips still. It surprises him how badly he wants to fuck ruthlessly into the wet suction of Dean’s mouth, but after days of marathon, hormone-fueled sex, it’s easy to see how he’s come to know what he likes.

It’s Dean.

He likes Dean. In any and every way he can have him.

Dean pulls off with an obscene pop and smirks running the long length of his tongue up the underside of Cas’ cock. “Tired of me already?” he asks.

“Never,” Cas’ says with fondness, reaching out and pulling Dean up into his lap. Cas’ cock sinks easily into Dean’s warm, loose opening and they sigh in tandem. Absently he runs his knuckles against the soft skin of Dean’s stomach as they rock together. The frenzy of the last few days is missing, and it’s nice to take pure pleasure in one another.

“I… It might not work,” Dean says softly, his eyes downcast.

“What might not?” Cas asks as he presses his palm over Dean’s belly button, just feeling how the omegas hips roll.

“I’ve never... I don’t think I can.” Dean blushes leaning forward to hide his head in the crook of Cas’ neck. Dean shudders as he comes and Cas gets lost in his orgasm, pressing up and locking tight inside of him.

All at once it dawns on him. _Pups_. Cas didn’t even realize what he was doing, but now that he thinks about it, ever since Dean had explained to him–about his heat, what it did to Dean’s body, how it was preparing him for conception. Cas has been touching, stroking, pressing his fingers against Dean’s stomach. It’s worse when they are knotted, purring softly against Dean’s mating mark, as his fingers petting over Dean’s skin until they inevitably end up fanned across his lower abdomen. Possessive, protective of the life their bodies are trying to create.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up.” Dean mumbles into his neck, “My old Alpha,” he growls the word, his hands balling into fists where they rest at the nape of Cas’ neck. “He had me on a pretty fucked up concoction of meds for a long time. When _Hand &Paw _ finally got me out, they said the damage to my reproductive system was severe.” Dean shrugs absently like it doesn’t really matter but his scent is heavy with despair and sadness. Burnt, sooty cedar mixed with the tang of overripe fruit, it stings Cas’ nose.

“They started me on hormone therapy right away. Got me back on a regular cycle with some natural, and much more gentle suppressants, just something to keep everything manageable. It's also why I've had so much trouble putting on weight. You should have seen me when they got me out.” Dean shifts, puffing out his cheeks on a sigh and leaning back from where he’s hiding against Cas’ neck. The position change makes Cas bites his lip, his toes curl, and he comes again, sometimes the multiple orgasms from a knotting are rather ill-timed. He doesn’t want to interrupt Dean as he recants his history, his eyes foggy with memory, so Cas' careful to keep his breathing as even as possible though euphoria swamps his senses. This is the most Dean’s ever told him about his past.

“Being on the drugs I was, for as long as I was, made my first clean heat brutal. I almost died. I was in the hospital for over a month, most of it unconscious. The actual heat lasted just over two weeks. But the symptoms, the drain on my body, and the cramping, fuck, it lasted much longer.”

“I assume that is not normal?” Cas says,

“No,” Dean agrees “most heats last between three and five days. Though for me they are usually longer, especially when I feel safe with my partner.” Dean smiles slow, gently rolling his hips. His current heat has just reached a week in length. “It’s like my body is trying extra hard to get all my parts to work correctly after being so badly damaged.”  Dean’s smile falters his eyes drop, scent souring again. “So you know, don’t get your hopes up.”

“It never occurred to me,” Cas confesses, and Dean’s head snaps up, brows lifted.

“What do you mean?”

“Pups, children. I never thought I would have them. I never thought I would have _you_.” Cas wraps a hand around Dean’s jaw, rubbing his thumb over Dean’s bottom lip. “So it never occurred to me to hope for more. You’re enough Dean; you’ll always be enough for me.”

Dean surges, his mouth colliding with Cas’, their teeth click, and Cas is sure he would have a bruised lip if not for how quickly he heals. Dean chuckles before turning his head and opening for Cas’ tongue.

“I love you, you know?” Dean pants moments later–eyes still closed, cheeks flushed, radiating happiness–when they part for air.

“I know,” Cas says, gently kissing down Dean’s neck to nip over his healed mating bite.

“I’d be really impressed with you right now if I wasn’t so sure that you have no idea that you just quoted one of my favorite movies ever made.”

“Oh really?” Cas asks, a smile creeping over his lips, joy bubbling up inside of him, “You know it’s a book series too right?”

Dean’s eyes go comically wide, and he twists in Cas' lap towards the two massive, floor to ceiling, bookshelves that line the front wall to the left of the fireplace. “You’ve got to be shitting me,” he whispers before jerking back around, a laugh tumbling from his lips, as he presses a flutter of kisses over Cas’ face.

They slump together, breathing slowly, Dean’s chin resting on Cas’ shoulder, his warm fingers trickling down the nape of Cas’s neck and over the first few knobs of his spine. It’s soothing, something Dean started doing whenever they are knotted together, and Cas is finding that he craves the gentle attention. The way Dean is always touching him, finding little reasons to be in Cas’ space. It settles him, settles the voice in the back of his mind that tries to tell him he doesn’t deserve this.

“I wouldn’t be upset though,” Cas says, refocusing on Dean in his lap, sensing his lingering tension. “If it did happen that is, but I don’t need it, Dean, it's not going ever to make me love you any less.” Dean nods, a short, simple shifting of his head against Cas’ shoulder. “If we wanted, down the line. If you really wanted to, Dean, we could contact Hand&Paw, ask for a placement. See if they have any kids or teens, offer them a home with us. If that’s something, _we_ want.”  

“You’d do that?” Dean asks leaning back, eyes cautious.

“Of course. I come from a large pack, and I do miss it, but I don’t know if I’m ready right now to take on so much responsibility, maybe with time. I think it would be nice to offer a stable home to those who need it.” Cas pauses thinking. He’s surprised at how easy it is to talk to Dean; he doesn’t have to hide. His fears, his hopes, Dean listens, he doesn’t judge, his scent… it’s freeing. “If it’s something we decide we want. We don’t have to rush into anything, Dean. There’s no pressure. You’re so much more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Dean smiles, thoroughly relaxing, his shoulders dropping, his scent evening out. It’s sweet and soothing, smelling warm and robust like summer apples, and honeysuckle.

“Ugh, God why!” Dean groans as Cas’s knot slips free along with a mess of slick and come. “Every time!” he whines shifting to stand on shaky legs.

“We really need to stop having so many serious conversations while knotted.” Cas nods in agreement, “Let’s shower and then, I think if you’re up for it. Maybe a walk outside?”

“Sounds great. You know," Dean's voice drops an octave, "we could just get a plug, keep it all up in there.” Dean says it over his shoulder as he makes his way towards the bathroom and Cas is so dumbfounded that he’s slow to follow.

His feet thunder across the room and Dean laughs stumbling forward a few steps as they collide with a wet smack of sweaty skin. He wraps himself around Dean, arms tensing like Dean would try and run, which he’s not, he’s leaning back, purring softly around his chuckles, his back to Cas’ chest.

“Like that, Alpha?” Dean asks spinning in his arms and walking backward into the bathroom. “Like keeping me stuffed full of your come?”

“Yes,” Cas growls and that sets Dean off even more, his head tipping back, exposing his throat, to which Cas latches his mouth onto. Dean’s laughter fades to a soft hum, his hands cupping the back of Cas’ skull as Cas slides his mouth down until he finds the bond mark, sucking at the skin and reveling in the way Dean shivers.

“I… I love how you don’t hide anything from me,” Dean says later, the water trailing in rivulets over his skin.

“What could I have to hide? I’ve spent my entire life hiding. I don’t want to hide anymore, I especially I don’t want to hide from you, Dean.”

“Stupid sappy Alpha.” Dean grouses before pulling Cas into a heated kiss. The water runs cold on them suddenly, and they scramble to clean the soap from their skin.

The moon is just cresting the tree line when they finally make it outside. Dean is bundled in every piece of outerwear Cas owns, including his long-unused winter jacket. A travel mug of sweet hot tea clutched in his mittened hands; he stands as Cas strips off his clothing and shifts into his wolf form.

“That's new,” Dean says softly, his breath leaving him in a cloud. He lifts his hand and rubs at the center of his chest.

Cas looks over his shoulder as the door to the cabin swings shut behind them with a soft click. He makes a questioning noise, nose bumping into the crook of Dean’s elbow.

“Are you… Are you, excited?” Dean asks after a moment; his face perplexed as he thinks.

Cas gives a soft wuff of air, gently nipping at Deans forearm, his tail wagging softly.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Dean says as they trudge down the front steps.

Cas has been clearing the porch and a few of the paths around the cabin in the lulls between Dean’s peaks while the omega rested. Needing time in the familiar mountain air to stabilize himself and his emotions. His life hasn’t changed this much in a very long time, and he craves the dull ache of physical labor, on top of his already heavily fatigue muscles to clear his mind and remind him that it’s ok to be happy, to have this, to have Dean.

As Dean slept for longer and longer periods of time between spikes Cas kept himself busy and now there are a fair number of trails available for them to walk. Cas sets off down one that heads towards the lake, his pace is slow, paws pressing into the soft snow as Dean keeps in step beside him.

“I can feel it,” Dean says after a long while, and Cas looks up at him. He has a thick red scarf wrapped around his neck, and a bright blue cap pulled down over his ears, from when Cas spent a winter teaching himself how to knit. “I can feel what you’re feeling. Confusion.” Dean says tilting his head to the side for a moment as if he seeing something far in the distance.

Pressing against Dean’s side, Cas nudges Dean’s arm until he loops one around Cas’ neck. “I didn’t expect this; it's so strange. It’s like a little piece of you is fluttering here.” Dean points to the spot in the center of his chest. “It’s warm and bright, and it feels like a birds wing.”

Cas whines slightly, worry lacing through him as Dean rubs at the spot on his chest, face constricted. He licks at Dean’s face stretching up to reach and Dean bats him away. “Ugh stop, dog breath.” He complains, lifting the tea to his mouth and taking a sip before sighing.

“Look it's not bad, you don’t have to worry. It’s just a little strange. No one tells you about this in health class, you know, there’s so few full-shift wolves out in the world. I guess people don’t have all the information. I’m not scared. I’m not leaving. Oh my god, will you calm down!”

Dean stops walking he sets his mug down on a snowbank huffing and tilting his head to the sky before lifting his hand and rubbing his chest again.

“Cas, chill.” Dean snaps, and Cas looks down whining and snapping his jaws. He can’t help it; he would if he could but he doesn’t know how to turn off his emotions. Cas is good, great at repressing them, shoving them into the dark, black corners of his soul, but turning them off, he’s never been had much control. He paces back and forth snapping his maw in frustration. He stops mid-step, one paw curled in the air as Dean barks a laugh, head tipping back, breath sighing from his lungs like a chimney.

“Cas. _Chill_.” He says, arms slowly lifting to show the icy wonderland they are currently trudging through. He picks up his tea. “Come on, no reason to get all panicked now. If watching a giant wolf shift into a sexy man didn’t scare me off a little emotional transference isn’t going to do it either.” Dean runs his mittened hand over Cas’s head and turns back to the trail. “Alright Wendy Darling, think happy thoughts.”

Joy ripples through Cas, This reference he understands, he’s read, Peter Pan. Some of the emotions he has towards reading the book must carry over because Dean laughs again, bright and beautiful. “Remind me to add Disney _movies_ to the list I send to Benny.”

They spend a few hours sitting on the end of the dock when they finally arrive at the frozen lake. Cas had to plow ahead the last half of the trip because the trail faded off and the snow was too thick for Dean to make any sort of progress in. Now they sit together looking out over the icy expanse, the moon hanging bright white in the clear dark sky. Cas is curled around Dean, his oversized body swallowing the man up where he lays against his belly, between his front and rear legs.

“I could stay like this all night,” Dean says softly, and Cas drowns in a wash of contentment so fierce he knows it isn’t just his own. Dean’s hand slides over his flank absently as he tilts his face to the stars. “We didn’t have stars like this where I’m from, too much light pollution.”

Cas wuffs softly, nosing brushing Dean’s cheek. “Is it strange to want to howl?” He asks his eyes sliding to meet Cas’.

“Do I want to howl or do you?” He asks playfully narrowing his eyes. Cas can only roll his eyes in return, gently chuffing Dean again with the tip of his nose.

“We didn’t howl. Not once we lived in the city, but sometimes when I was still young, I’d get the urge, so bright and strong, like someone was calling for me. Someone howling out just for me, looking for me, and I’d run to the window and throw it open, but it would be gone. Fading faster the more I looked for it and the window only ever let in the sound of the city; cars, and trains, people's voices, too many smells. Too many people, not enough wolves. There was never anyone calling for me.”

Sadness and longing that is not his own fills Cas’ chest, he tilts his head back, ears flattening and he howls. Long and low, he lets out Dean’s pain, he lets out his own. His howl echoes around the lake, bouncing off the frozen surface and coming back to them, deep and powerful. He pauses, letting the echo fade before catching Dean’s eye and giving in to the urge to break the silence again. He howls into the night and this time Dean tips back his head and howls right along with him.

It’s perfect, even if Dean is shy and out of practice, his howl hesitant at first but grows stronger with each breath he takes before trying again. It’s exhilarating to howl with his mate; it sets his heart free. Cas is soaring as he closes his eyes and calls out into the night, and this time Dean is there to answer him.


	15. Peace

Dean’s heat ends without much fanfare, and he joins Cas outside more frequently now that he’s able to maintain a normal body temperature. Dean has a vibrant desire to learn, it thrills and stimulates Cas to no end. He thirsts for anything, and everything Cas can teach him about living in the cabin, about being reliant on the woods and his own two hands.

They fall into a routine, and it’s comfortable. It’s more than comfortable, Cas realizes one day as he’s restocking the woodpile on the porch, he’s happy. Dean’s just knocked on the front window, a smile splitting his face, tray of cookies held in one mittened hand, his expression expectant. And with that, the little cavity in Cas’ chest closes just a bit more. Each passing day Cas can feel the bond between he and Dean growing stronger, and while they can’t fully sense one another’s emotions outside of Cas being in full shift, Cas can still feel the thread of the bond–glowing warm and golden bright in his chest–that binds them together. Alpha and omega, lovers, true mates, pack.

They spend an entire day doing maintenance on the solar panels, up on the roof, knocking the snow off and on the well pump, ensuring that the insolation on the tubes where they emerge from the ground is good. Cas shows Dean how to adjust the water levels so that they have more hot water available since there are two of them showering now. 

They move Dean into Cas’ room since it’s on the west side of the house and Dean is not an early riser. Their scents mingle, and the cold cabin grows vibrant with life and warmth. Dean is always moving, he fills the air with noise and sound, humming or singing to himself. The steady beat of his heart and the distinctive shuffling of his footfalls around the cabin turn the house into a home.

There is a part of himself that mourns, Cas realizes, for his family, for the time he’s lost in his isolation, and he can’t help but feel disappointed that he’s waited so long to have this again. Surprised at how deeply he was fractured, how he’d lost touch with his humanity until Dean showed up and brought him back from the brink. There is sadness too, that Dean will never get to meet and be loved by his family. And they would have loved him, with his easy smiles and sarcastic personality. He would have fit right in, and Cas can imagine how Hannah and Anna would have fought for his attention. How Michael would have given Cas a stiff nod of approval and his mother would have taken every chance she got to scoop Dean up and coat him in the scent of the pack, of family, to make sure he knew he belonged.

The day’s bleed on and the winter grows stale, Thanksgiving comes and goes, and Cas cooks a fresh winter goose, while Dean makes all the sides and two different pies. He’s made the kitchen into _his_ space. It’s saturated in Dean’s content scent, and it bleeds into the rest of the main room so that every time Cas comes back in the house, it’s like walking directly into Dean’s open arms.

“Cas! Cookies!” Dean shouts, through the window and Cas smiles to himself loading up his arms with wood and pressing his hip to the click latch to release the door.

“What kind?” Cas asks, drawing in a slow breath as he heads over to the fireplace to set down the wood.

“The only kind worth having. We need more chocolate chips by the way.”

“I’ll add it to the list for Benny,” he says tossing a log or two on the fire.

Cas curls up on the couch as Dean comes over with a mug of tea and a plate of cookies fitting into the spot next to him like it was made for him. And Cas thinks, in some ways, it was.

“Tell me about your brother,” Cas says lifting a cookie and taking a bite. He’s been meaning to broach the topic for a while now, wanting to know everything there is to know about Dean, but unsure of how to go about it. Dean’s rather tight-lipped when it comes to his past and Cas can’t really blame him. It was painful digging up his own, but he does feel better knowing Dean knows.

“We should decorate for the holidays,” Dean says instead, and Cas is honestly not surprised. “Have you ever done it before? I think we could put a tree over there, maybe get a few of the emergency candles out of storage and put them over the fireplace with some pine branches?”

Cas sighs tucking Dean more tightly under his arm. “We can,” he says slowly pressing a kiss to Dean’s temple, “but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re avoiding the question.”

“I know... give me a little more time.”

“I can do that.”

They decorate for Christmas. Pine branches and thick, long-burning candles cluster the small mantle atop the fireplace. Dean takes it upon himself to shred one of his red and black flannels and is surprisingly adept and turning the strips into big bows. He winds the remainder of the ribbons around more pine boughs and hangs them over the entrance to the hallway and the windows at the front of the cabin. Cas spends his time between his daily chores and knitting a new blanket for the living room. Dean scoffs for all of two seconds before he’s sitting down and trying to learn how to do it himself. 

While Dean sleeps each night, Cas slinks out to his storage shed and puts his woodworking skills to the test. He’s not sure exactly what he wants to make, but he trusts the wood to guide him. He spends long hours carving and sanding and varnishing, each night leaving the project unfinished and crawling back into bed to wrap himself around Dean. Each morning they wake and make breakfast together, spending the long hours of each day in comfortable harmony. It’s the kind of life he could get used to, but he can tell Dean is restless.

“The winter is hard,” Cas finds himself explaining one night as Dean sighs and again rifles through the books on his bookshelf. “The weather makes it difficult to be outside, but I promise the other seasons are much easier. I know the confinement can get… oppressive”

“It’s not that Cas, it’s fine.” Dean abandons the books and flops into the armchair by the fire he has claimed as his own. Cas can hear his heartbeat flutter with unease, his scent going sooty, “I’ve always been surrounded by people, lots of wolves, almost to the point I felt smothered, crowded. At  _ Hand&Paw _ I was in a group house for omegas, there was always someone to care for, someone who needed me. At my grandfathers, well… anyway. This is a lot more difficult then I thought it would be, especially around now. The holidays were always a big to-do with my mom and in the omega house. She was always moving, so full of energy and joy.”

“What can I do Dean?” He asks softly setting aside the shirt he’s mending. This time of year used to be difficult for him too, but over time, and as he grew accustomed to the solitude it got easier. If anything this has been the best winter he’s ever had. The days are melting away quickly, racing towards a time where Cas will need an excuse to keep Dean cooped up with him in the cabin all day. 

“You could kiss me?” Dean asks, brows lifting hopefully.

Cas can, so he does. He takes Dean to their den, their bed, piles the blankets around them and makes love to him until his heartbeat settles and his mind is too blissed out to race with upsetting memories. Touches him until his scent is content and soothed. Cas doesn’t leave the bed that night to go to his storage shed. He stays and kisses Dean awake under the glow of the moon, pleases him with his hands, and mouth, and cock.

“Don’t look!” Dean cries, quickly ducking his torso over whatever is in his lap. 

“Okay, okay.” Cas laughs trotting towards the door. “I won’t look, I’m going to the shed. I’ll be back for dinner.”

“Good, yes, go play with your wood,” Dean says his head once again angled towards his lap. The air is still for a very thick moment, then he snorts, and Cas laughs.

“I’d rather  _ you _ play with my wood,” Cas says to which Dean crows, head tossing back shoulders shaking.

“Oh my god, you better not turn out to be a secret perv!” Dean shouts throwing a handful of popcorn over his shoulder. “This is what I get for mating a virgin, corny sex jokes.”

“Hey!” Cas whines, “You started it.”

“Go, little Alpha,” Dean says fondly, “make sure you knock before you come back in, you can’t see this yet. It’s a surprise.”

Cas spends most of the day in the shed, and when he emerges in the early twilight hours, his gift is complete. It sits on the shelf above his workstation glowing warmly in the fading light of the sun, and even he’s impressed with his creativity. This little work is far, and above the most elaborate thing he’s ever created. 

When he was younger, his pack gave a healthy mix of handmade gifts and items purchased from stores. He hasn’t done this in a long time, really put his heart into making something for someone in his pack. A bubble of mirth escapes his mouth as he heads back towards the house, joy infusing his limbs and making him giddy. 

Dean meets him at the door wearing a loose hoodie, sweatpants and a pair of snow boots, his eyes are bright, and a playful smile curves his lips. Cas slows as he makes his way up the front steps. There is a strange tension in the air as Dean pulls the door closed behind him. 

Their breath hovers between them, a moist cloud, anticipation palpable. Dean reaches out gently swiping his fingers over the arch of Cas’ cheek, a featherlight touch that leaves his skin tingling and then he’s gone, bolting off the deck shifting into his beta-form for the first time, his brow more pronounced, nose wide and flat, fangs dropping from his gums, sharp claws sliding out of his fingers. He runs, disappearing into the woods before Cas can react, leaving a trail of sweet, happy omega in his wake. 

It doesn’t take him long though, a slow smile spreads across his face as he charges after his mate, the scent of Dean’s joy and arousal easy to follow through the still forest. He finds the claw marks first, deep gouges right alongside where Cas makes his own. His mate, marking their territory. Cas rumbles his pleasure, a growl erupting from deep in his chest at the sight. It brings on his shift, the wolf springing forth from his skin, his clothes tearing, unable to contain him, and he howls. 

Up ahead a call comes back, and Cas sprints after it. His heart pounding against his ribs, a flutter of excitement in his chest that is not his own, spurs him faster. 

It’s better than any dream he could ever have. The feeling of his body, the scent of his mate, luring him deeper into the forest. The sound of Dean’s husky, broken howl, so new and tentative but infinitely alluring, urging him to  _ chase, claim, breed _ . He will catch his mate, prove that he is a capable and reliable Alpha. 

More claw marks, Dean’s scent heavy in the gouges, in the air, in his haste to mark and run, to leave a trail for Cas to follow. Dean's fast, and he doesn’t make his capture easy, he’s cunning and smart and moves through the woods like he’s been doing it all of his life. But Cas knows this land better than anyone, and Dean cannot evade him forever.

The call comes again, from off to the left this time, a tentative, questioning howl, calling to something deep inside Cas, something his wolf answers instinctively, turning and stalking quietly through the night into the underbrush. 

Cas has a moment to wonder how Dean managed to get passed him. His feelings of surprise are met with resounding cockiness through the bond. Dean’s smugness curls low and tight inside of Cas. He's so intensely proud of himself Cas can't help but find it arousing. He drops his body low, paws barely making a sound in the deep snow as he focuses his emotions, his consuming desire for Dean, driving them through the bond at the other man. He hears Dean stumble, breath hitching on a low moan and Cas strikes. 

Nipping playfully at his mate, they tumble into the clearing back by the cabin. Dean scrambles, strength infusing his limbs in his beta-form but Cas is too much for him. Carefully he lowers his body over Dean’s, maw parted around the slim column of Dean’s throat and the omega whimpers. 

Dean's eyelids flutter over golden eyes as he tips his head back to exposes his throat more fully. Cas breathes hotly, against the soft skin, letting his tongue touch and withdraw against Dean's Adam's apple. He presses down settling more firmly over his mate, pressing his slick erection into the seam of Dean’s legs. Dean is playing into every single one of his alpha triggers. Belly up, exposed throat, soft, encouraging vocalizations that sink into Cas' hindbrain and make him hard with want.

“Alpha,” Dean whispers his throat flexing between Cas' jaws. He arches up rolling his hips against Cas’ belly, hard cock pressing insistently. The scents surrounding Cas, and sensations feeding through the bond are overwhelming. The loop of emotions sparking back and forth between them makes Cas' heartbeat pick up and he succumbs to a spiraling feedback loop of arousal and affection. His jaws tense for just a moment around Dean’s neck making the omega go quiet and pliant, eyes sliding shut with a soft sigh. 

Releasing Dean is difficult, but as his scent of sweet arousal grows thicker, Cas is powerless to resist his call. He shifts down Dean’s body slowly, nosing along Dean’s neck, down into his armpit, wuffing the heady aroma nestled there, his mouth floods with saliva and he licks at the sweaty fabric, before moving lower. Cas pushes up the hem of Dean's sweatshirt gently licking the soft skin and fine dusting of hair running below Dean’s belly button before looking up and making a low questioning sound.

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Dean says as he scrambles to push his sweats down in the front, freeing his cock, the scent of fresh, hot slick and pre-come infuses the air. “Come on Alpha,” he begs lifting his hips, so his hard cock wags back and forth in the cool night air. “Please…”

There’s no trepidation from Dean, nothing but lust and need coloring his scent. He wants this; he want’s Cas in his human form and his wolf form. Dean’s bright eyes shine up at him, eager, impatient. Cas whines, huffing hotly, he drops his snout into the crease of Dean's thigh, just breathing in his musky scent trying to gain some modicum of control. 

"Cas..." Dean groans rolling his hips, the soft skin of his pelvis warm against Cas' nose. "Come on, come on."

With a snort, Cas turns his maw, opening his jaws to lap a long, wet stripe from Dean’s balls to the tip of his cock with the thick broad length of his tongue. The pleasure that ripples through them both causes simultaneous reactions, Dean arches, hands flying to the fur by Cas’ ears and Cas growls low and long, his nerve endings lighting up at the taste and phantom feelings of what he's doing zinging through the bond from Dean.

Curling the agile organ Cas creates a tight tube around Dean's cock, making up for the fact that he can't provide any suction in this form. Dean doesn’t seem to care, as Cas alternates between lapping over his length and letting Dean thrust up into the heat of his mouth. Cas pants, sucking in deep lungfuls of Dean’s scent as he drools open-mawed over Dean's pelvis. His omega whines, writhing in the snow, each shift of Dean’s legs brush up against the hard, wet protrusion of Cas’ cock sending pleasure shooting through his body. Dean whispers slurred encouragement hips bucking; body plucked tight like a bowstring. 

Everything is more intense in this form, Dean’s scent and flavor, the sounds he makes, the beating of his heart are crisp and clear. Cas' cock _aches,_  and with each pulse of his heart it slips wetly free from his furry sheath, pressing down against Dean's shins. Every twitch of his omega below him makes pleasure sing through his nerve endings. 

Cas’s tongue dextrious tongue makes Dean tremble as Cas wraps it around hid cock, curls it under his balls, lathers him in heat and friction, the slippery slide and pressure, the heat of his maw. Cas' paws flex in the snow, claws digging deep grooves on either side of Dean's chest, as Dean’s hands, pull fiercely at his fur. 

The bond sings, a feedback loop of pure euphoria, pushing them both higher and higher until Dean gasps, spilling hotly against Cas’ tongue. Cas drinks his spend lapping at the mess on Dean’s stomach, all the while waves of Dean’s orgasm ripples through their bond. Cas’ cock  twitches, leaking thick and hot a constant stream of pre-come, soaching Dean's sweats. 

Once he's cought his breath and has twitched away from Cas' insistant lapping at his softening cock, Dean twists, reaching down between them, wrapping his hands around the exposed red flesh, fingers chilled from the night air and strokes Cas' cock. He whimpers, wines, panting hotly as Deans hands grip him, stroke his cock, pulling the orgasm out of him with firm strong movements. Cas spills thick and hot against Dean’s shins.

“Ugh, We need a better system for laundry.” Dean grunts, pulling his hand away from Cas’ still twitching dick. He laps at Deans face nuzzling his snout into the space behind his omegas ear where his scent is heavy. “Yes, post orgasm cuddles are great when I’m not half naked pressed into a snow pile. Only one of us comes equipped with an actual fur coat.”

With a soft huff, Cas lifts himself up on unsteady legs,  Dean grips his fur and pulls himself to his feet. “That’s going to be a lot of fun in the summer,” he says absently bringing his come-covered hand to his face, and giving it a sniff before licking Cas’ spend from his palm. The sight makes Cas whine with want, jaws snapping, head butting against Dean’s ribs as they sway slowly back towards the cabin.

“Are you going to be able to shift like that?” Dean asks once they are inside, his eyes lingering on Cas’ still hard cock. Dean’s already stripping out of his snow and come splattered clothes, dropping them in a wet heap by the door.

Cas can’t help but roll his eyes. He lurches forward a few steps his body shrinking as he stumbles catching himself on trembling palms before pulling himself upright. His cock juts, angry and flush with blood, from his hips, slowly softening with each pulse of his heart.

“That’s only part one of your gift,” Dean says with a smile gathering up his clothing and walking towards their bedroom. "I've wanted to do that for a long time. A chase has alwyas been something in fairy tales, but now...." Dean smiles over his shoulder, winking. Cas follows in his wake like a shadow. 

The bedroom is warm; the small wood burning heater crackles merrily in the corner of the room. Dean’s brought the coffee table in and laid out a spread of finger foods for them.

“I plan to spend all night in here with you, and then tomorrow I'll give you the last part of your gift, which honestly is the lamest part so really, let's focus on tonight. And we can cook breakfast together.”

“Dean, this is too much. I don’t need anything more than you.”

“And that's why it will never be enough." Dean says with a small smile "Because you have me, Cas, since the beginning, you've had me. This is for me too, so let me do this for you, for us.” Dean drops his clothes in the corner of the room and returns to slip his fingers in between Cas’, drawing him towards the bed.

“Yes.” Cas agrees, "Alright," Dean pulls him, smiling, toward their bed. 

Cas wakes sore, his cock aches in a way that’s uncomfortable. The skin where his knot forms is sensitive and still slightly puffy, even now, hours later. Cas can't even think about all the wonderful things Dean had shown him last night. All the ways Dean had played his body like a finley tuned instrument. Not to mention how Dean milked his knot, guiding him through more orgasms than he’d ever imagined his body was capible of in one knotting. He was locked deep inside Dean with no way to escape the pleasure. The way Dean moved his hips, knowing exactly how to shift and pull, all the different contractions and intense sensations; the experience he had at the hands of his omega is seared into his memory and branded across his fatigued muscles. 

He is, in fact, positive that in his orgasm induced delirium he’d pronounced that Dean was some kind of incubus, sent to suck his soul out of his dick. He also may, or may not have, pledged his undying love to Dean. Which, in retrospect would have been an awful way to tell his mate they're loved, had the not already confessed to one another. He’s immensely relieved they have.

In the end, Cas had begged for relief from the unyielding pleasure-pain. His body trembling and weak from over stimulation. When Dean had finally released him, his knot abused and swollen, Cas didn’t have the energy to move, and Dean had dutifully cleaned them both up and sat with Cas’ head cradled in his folded legs, feeding him bits of smoked meat and cheese until he’d fallen asleep.

Waking up is something entirely different from the brain-numbing haze of pleasure he’d gone to sleep in. His back aches and his legs are sore, even his shoulders are stiff, he has a cramp in the arch of his left foot, and the very last thing he wants to do is pull himself from the sleep-warm confines of his bed.

“Mornin’ Sunshine!” Dean says brightly, padding into the room “Coffee?” he asks even as he sets a mug down.

Cas can only groan, “You’re either an incubus or an angel, I haven’t decided yet,” his biceps protest as he pushes himself up and grabs the mug.

“I’m neither. I’m just younger than you are and more experienced. Come on old man, get up, it’s time for gifts.”

Cas  _ harumphs _ but swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Gulping down the coffee, he staggers over to the dresser and pulls on some clothes. “Your gift is in the shed. Let me grab it quickly.”

“Sure thing,” Dean says before slipping out of the room with the empty plates from the night before.

Cas pauses to place a soft kiss on Dean’s head as he heads out to retrieve the sculpture from the shed. It’s a brisk morning, and the air is fresh and clear. The storms of the past few weeks seem to have come and gone. Retrieving the figure from the shed its soft weight in Cas’ hands, dark varnish accentuating the smooth, rich wood, and as he strokes his thumb over it, his stomach swoops with nerves. Carefully he wraps it back into a soft cloth. 

He and Dean are still learning, there so much about one another they do not know. Cas admits with a small smile, as he pushes the front door open, that he’s excited to find out everything there is to know and this is just the first step.

“About time!” Dean says from where he’s adjusting a row of popcorn garland hung by the fire. “I thought you got lost.”

“I wasn’t even gone ten minutes,” Cas counters slipping his boots off and padding over to the couch. 

“It always feels longer when you’re waiting for a gift,” Dean says, coming to sit next to Cas on the couch.

“Yes well. Don’t get too excited. It’s just a little thing.” Cas says suddenly feeling foolish, defensive, clutching the small figure closer to his chest.

“Too late!” Dean says with a smile. “I know its been a while since you've done this so why don’t I go first.”

“You’ve been going since last night.” Cas manages with continence, and Dean chuckles.

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me,” Cas responds as Dean leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Here!" Dean says hiding his nerves behind bluster and activity, but Cas can tell he's shy from the way the tips of ears turn pink as he hands over two packages "So this one is a stupid thing I made, and this one is from when I was in the omega house.”

Dean puts the two gifts in Cas' lap then immediately pucks one back and rips it open revealing a long slightly misshapen scarf. He shrugs and spreads it out over Cas' knee. “Since you gave me yours I wanted to make sure you had one too,” he’s blushing softly, “thanks for teaching me.”

“Dean, this is wonderful.” Cas strokes over the scarf, it's black and shorter on one side then the other, as Dean seemed to lose some tension as he knitted, but its soft and warm and it smells like Dean. Cas lifts the garment to his nose and draws a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“This too.” Dean holds up the other package and as Cas opens it a soft strip of black leather emerges. It's roughly two and a half inches thick, made up of three smaller pieces of leather, intricately knotted and braided together, four small flat green stones– two rectangular, on the outside two ovals on the in–are woven in the center. 

“What is it?” Cas asks as he turns it over in his hands. 

“You, uh, wear it on your wrist, or you don’t have to...”  Dean shrugs, “Let me show you.” 

He takes Cas’ left hand in his and turns it palm up carefully trying the cords of leather around his wrist so that the three stones sit on the top when he turns it back over. “It’s meant to show my willingness to join your pack, a little late, I know,” his hand nervously flicks to the mark on his neck “but, better late than never. We make them in the omega house while we wait for placements. The three strips of leather represent the Alpha, beta, and omegas, bound together, to be stronger than they would be alone. Then we were encouraged to add our own touches. My brother always told me that green was my color, so...” he gestures to the stones, “You’ll wear it?”

“Of course, Dean.” He traces the band around his wrist, the implications heavy in his chest. A tangible weight to his responsibility. So much more than Dean's mark on his neck, something he can’t see or feel but knows is there. This band that Dean made when he was still lost, still alone, but so full of hope for his future, for the Alpha that would take him in and treat him well. Cas is that Alpha, Dean’s Alpha, and he will wear Dean’s mark and his band with pride. “Thank you.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Dean rolls his eyes, but the slight tilt of his mouth and the hints of honeysuckle in his scent convey how pleased he is. “You got something for me?”

“Yes, it’s not as spectacular as what you’ve given me, but I do hope you like it,” Cas says as he hands over the cloth wrapped figure. 

As Dean unwraps it the parts separate, a figure of a wolf falling into his crossed legs as he catches the matching figure of a man. Dean turns the sculpture over in his palm, running his thumbs over the man's chest.

“Cas, you made this?” Dean asks looking up his eyes shining.

“Yes,” Cas says as he lifts the wolf figure from Dean’s lap. “They intertwine. Here,”

Holding out his hand, Dean places the figure he’s holding in Cas' palm, and Cas sets them on the small coffee table “For a long time I stood at odds with a significant part of myself.” Cas says as he twists the wood sculptures, guiding their bases together like puzzle pieces. “The man and the wolf. Separate but the same. Living in discontent, but surviving.”  

The wolf stature slips into the curves of the man seamlessly their forms sliding around one another. “Then you came, and I felt the rift that I’d caused between my wolf and myself as a tangible thing, alive and raw, broken but not yet lost. I saw how wounded I’d made myself, how far I was slipping from humanity and everything my family had tried to instill in me. The more you worked your way into my life, Dean, the more I fought against my wolf. The more I let fear and uncertainty control me. The more I let my human side human emotions, drown out who I am as a whole.” 

Cas continues to turn the bases of the figures, the wolf’s form wrapping sinuously around the man's, “While my wolf cried for you, I resisted. But I was wrong,” Cas’ fingers stroke over the base giving it another small twist causing the wolfs head to slip under the outstretched arm of the man’s, the wolf's tail wrapping around the man’s leg interlocking the two figures seamlessly. 

“My wolf knew who you were from the moment you set foot in the cabin, and if I had only listened, had paid any attention to how my wolf was making me feel I’d have realized so much sooner that... that you complete me, Dean.” Cas’ fingers brush the softly sculpted hair of the man’s figure. “You bring my sides together. You’ve filled the chasm I’ve created with peace and tranquility. I don’t think I could ever picture my life without you in it.”

He sits back, the sculpture glowing in warm tones of oak and cherry, the firelight flickering over the shimmering varnish and making the wolf seem to blink up at the man. 

“This is us? Me and you?” Dean asks “...for me?”

“Yes. It’s you and me. The man and his wolf.” Cas smiles lifting his eyes from the sculpture to meet Dean’s, “But this is also me giving all of myself to you, my wolf and the man. I know I have a lot to learn about being a good Alpha, but I’m going to do my best because I want to be everything you need.” Cas licks his lips taking Dean’s hand, running his thumb over his thinly scarred knuckles. “I’m in your hands, Dean. Will you protect me and any pack we build together as I will always protect you?”

Dean is quiet for a long moment; he blinks his eyes a few times, the green depths sparkling. He licks his lips, clearing his throat before nodding. “Yeah. Yeah Cas, I will.”

Cas leans forward and kisses him, a soft press of lips that Dean deepens when his tongue flicks out gently, requesting entry. Dean groans when Cas opens for him, licking inside, relearning the contours of Cas’ mouth with short thrusts of his tongue. 

“Dean,” Cas complains as they pull apart, his body warms to the scent of omega arousal, but he’s tired and aches in ways that are not wholly pleasant. 

“I’m pretty sure we just got married, Cas,” Dean says with a smile, “You can’t blame a guy for getting turned on by that, never mind all the other shit you say.” 

“I have no idea what you mean,” Cas says, but smiles cheekily slipping from the couch to kneel between Dean’s legs, “You’re always aroused,” he dips his face pressing it into the bend of Dean’s hip and drawing in a lungful of his scent. “I don’t even have to say anything.”

“Y–yeah.” Dean rasps, shifting his hips, pressing his hardening cock against the underside of Cas’ jaw. Cas slowly peels his sleep-pants down covering each exposed inch of the Dean's skin with wet, open-mouthed kisses. “God, you’re so fucking hot.” Dean moans, and Cas glances up.

Dean’s breathing heavily through his mouth, jaw slack, eyes hooded. His tongue swipes out wetting his bottom lips, and Cas drops his head taking Dean’s length entirely into his mouth and sucking. Dean’s legs twitch under Cas’ palms as he lets out a sharp curse.

“Cas, yes fuck.” Dean lifts his hips fucking up into Cas’ mouth. He’s not small, his length not as thick or long as Cas’ but still substantial, and Cas gags. Dean lets out a long deep groan his head rolling on the back of the couch cushion. “Use... oh, fuck. _F_ _ ingers _ , please. Alpha”

Supporting Dean with one hand Cas pulls him down lower on the couch until his ass slips over the edge. Tracing the seam, Cas huffs, Dean’s wet and warm, accepts three of his fingers effortlessly. Cas curls them finding that spot inside of Dean that causes the omega to seize, crying out as Cas strokes over it again and again. 

“Coming, Cas, coming.” Dean gasps, eyes going wide and unseeing as his cock spurts filling Cas’ throat with his release. Swallowing Cas pulls off pressing soft kisses to Dean’s hips and thighs before helping him back into his sweats. Dean opens his arms and Cas crawls up his body to kiss him.

“Lo–love you.” Dean sighs.

“I was made to love you, Dean,” Cas says softly, and Dean rolls his eyes.

“See, you can’t say shit like that.” he huffs softly without any malice, pulling Cas back in for another soft kiss.


	16. Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **content warning** earning that graphic depictions of violence tag.

“Cas!” Dean calls as he's charging out of the woods, a breathless smile spreading across his features. He's beautiful and vibrant. The long winter under Cas’ care has him putting on both weight and muscle. The hollows of his cheeks filling out until he glows with health. He’s as bright as the sun, and Cas’ knows that if he looks too long, he'll be blinded by Dean's radiance. 

“Look!” Dean laughs, raising his arm, and from his fist hangs a fat hare. “The trap worked!”

“Excellent!” Cas says, setting aside the spade and standing from the freshly tilled garden soil. 

The spring came in just as warm as the winter was cold. The forest is flourishing, as is their relationship. They’ve learned much about each other, during the long months stuck in the cabin and now, given the opportunity, they are spending every moment outside. 

It pleases Cas to no end how Dean’s scent hangs in their territory. His marks are on the trees, and every few nights they walk together, a few miles through the brush so that Dean becomes familiar with the mountain, their home. Dean loves to be outdoors, and he’s taken to the wilderness much faster than Cas ever did. “I knew you could do it.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, as he crosses into the clearing in front of the cabin. “I just had to find the right area. Those tripwire traps…”

Cas hears the drawback and release of the bowstring just before the arrow whistles through the air. He reacts without thought, charging forward, seeing and hearing everything in slow motion, twigs, and leaves snap as the arrow tears through the forest. Deans face slips from happy to confused in an instant. 

Cas reaches him just in time to shove him aside, the arrow piercing into the flesh of Cas' shoulder instead of Dean's back. He snarls, not even feeling the pain as he shifts into his beta-form, senses heightening, as he reaches up and yanks the arrow from his flesh. Already he’s healing, but more slowly than usual. A dull ache radiates out from the wound in hot lashes. Something is not right.

“Get in the cabin,” Cas snarls, claws sliding free as he turns back towards the forest, pulling his shirt over his head in one motion. Dean scrambles back, his features shifting into beta-form, his brow dropping fangs glinting, his eyes glow gold as he snarls. 

“No. Go!” Cas growls lunging again, fingers curling around the haft of another arrow, he plucks it out of the air, tossing it to the ground. A third follows closely from the other direction, its fletching whistling as it races towards them. Cas spins, flipping over Dean’s body as the omega races for the porch, claws digging furrows into the grass. The arrows are all aimed at Dean. Rage erupts under Cas skin. His mate is under attack. Why, how?

There are three heartbeats in the forest. Two wolves, one human. He can hear them moving, smell the acrid scent of their sweat on the wind. 

“Knew we’d find you Dean-o.”

“Christian” Dean whispers–he’s made it to the deck, Cas can hear the boards creaking under his boots.

 An arrow whistles towards the cabin and Cas spins in the center of the clearing hands flexing at his sides, mouth brimming with fangs, ready to charge to protect his mate. An arrow sails out from his left, following in the wake of the first and hits him in the thigh. He snarls dropping down to a knee, pain lancing up his leg. Another follows nailing him in the ribs.

“Cas!” Dean shouts.

“Stay.” Cas commands lacing his words with his Alpha tone.

For a moment nothing moves, not Dean, not even their attackers in the woods. Cas yanks the arrow out of his thigh, growling, his body warming with some alien heat, it radiates out from each wound.

“Ooh, ho ho ho,” the first voice,  _ Christian _ , sings mockingly “Dean-o got himself an alpha, huh? A strong one at that. No matter, we’ll take him down all the same.”

“Yeah, we knew a pathetic bitch like you would shack up with the first alpha you could get your hands on.” A new voice calls as Cas pulls the arrow from between his ribs. His stomach twists, nausea working bile up from his gut. “Did you think he could protect you? Did you think we wouldn’t find you, Dean-y.”

Dean growls low and soft, and Cas sees him from the corner of his eye debating, his face twisted with rage and desperation. He shuffles, one step forward, one step back. Cas watches the battle he’s waging written across his face, to heed Cas’ command stay at the cabin, or to return and defend their territory, together, at Cas’ side.

“Shut your mouth Tyler! I’m never going back” Dean crouches low, muscles bulging, his claws curling into the top step as he readies himself to leap. “I’m never going back, never!”

Cas is slowly inching towards the deck. Keeping his back to Dean and the cabin, but his front towards the forest. Their attackers are moving, closing rank, closing in.

“Should have known you couldn’t hide from us forever.” Another voice calls out mocking and snide. “Was only a matter of time till we found you. Alpha Campbell misses you, Dean.”

At the tree line, a man emerges, not fifty feet from the first a second steps out of the shadows. Their scents muted, stale, the gear they are wearing is tactical, designed for heavy combat. Nothing like the game hunters Cas’ has seen on the mountain over the years. These men are dressed for hard travel through much more cumbersome terrain than the mountain. 

“You belong to the pack Dean, our omega. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” Tyler says as Christian knocks another arrow.

“I’m not his. I never was, and I’m never going back.” Dean’s heart is jackrabbit fast in Cas’ ears, his scent flooding with panic so much that Cas force a harsh breath out of his nose. It's so distracting; his head is buzzing, that when the third man steps around the side of the cabin, it surprises them both. His eyes flash blue, a beta then, and he draws in a deep breath, scenting the air.

“Johnny.” Dean snarls,

“Aww, did I miss your heat, Dean?” Johnny says with a slow depraved smile. “I always loved how you begged for my cock. The scent of your terror was always so delicious.”

“That’s not true.” Dean chokes, eyes wide, flicking with horror to Cas’ “ _ Alpha… _ ” 

Rage erupts behind his eyes blacking out his vision. These are the people who hurt his mate; these are the people who kept Dean from the sun, who underfed him, scarred him, drugged him and abused him. Cas lets go, lets his rage guide him, leaping, he shifts. 

It’s slow, painful, his wolf form is distant, and he has to reach for it, pull it to the surface, but once he has it, it comes snarling. As he lands, knocking the beta to the ground, his claws dig into the third man’s chest, rendering flesh from bone, he howls, jaws snapping. Cas can feel Deans fear, his anger, his shame, singing through their bond. He will do right by his mate. Cas will be the monster to chase away the demons that haunt Dean’s nightmares. 

Johnny gulps air, eyes wide and mouth gaping, he chokes on the blood gurgling up from his lungs. Cas digs his claws into his ribcage the bone crumbling like dried twigs under his paws. Cas savors Johnny's last breath as it bubbles, slick with spit and blood passed the man’s yellowed teeth. He swings his head towards the two remaining. One wolf, one human, both soon to be dead. 

With his first step towards them, they stumble back, the scent of their fear like ambrosia calling Cas to the hunt. Then he feels something else. Pride, joy, vengeance. Dean leaps from the deck landing roughly and surging to his feet.

“Don’t kill them both.” Dean whispers, calm, calloused and controlled. Even as his emotions feed through the bond, fueling Cas’ with a heavy mix of anger and enjoyment. His long fingers stroke slowly through the thick fur between Cas’ ears. A balm, soothing. “More will come, so leave one alive. I have questions.”

Cas snarls turning his gaze back to the forest. Dean leans down and whispers into his ear. “Hunt them, my Alpha. Make them pay.”

It’s easy, too easy to give into Dean’s request. He is happy to be anything that Dean needs, and right now he needs a monster. His paws stretch, muscles rolling under his fur as he charges after his prey. He craves retribution for the acts committed against his mate. 

The human, Tyler,  goes down quickly, he’s slower, less agile. He screams when Cas tackles him to the underbrush. Bones snapping under the weight of Cas’ wolf form. Tyler’s eyes are wide with fright, and he hyperventilates as Cas slowly bends down and rips his throat out with his teeth. It feels good, snapping the bonds these vile creatures have to their Alpha. Cas knows what it feels like to be on the other end, to have the connections break. He wants this Alpha Campbell to suffer. To feel each bond sever, to leave him gaping and wounded, like Dean was.

Christian is harder to catch, but only when compared to how easily Tyler went down. It’s moments versus seconds, now that Cas knows what to listen for, what scents to follow. Christian leaves a taint in the air like black ooze, and Cas stalks it, finding him hunkered down next to a large fallen tree. He’s got a satellite phone pressed to his ear, and he’s speaking rapidly. He looks up eyes narrowed, flashing blue as Cas steps around a tree.

“...full-shift, send back up.” Christian spits into the phone and then drops it. “You can try to kill me,” he snarls pulling a long, wickedly curved blade from a holster on his thigh. “But it won’t matter. The rest of the pack knows where he is now, and they're coming. Alpha Campbell doesn’t like when his things are taken from him.”

Snarling Cas snaps his jaws, blood and drool dripping from his fangs. No one is taking Dean from him. He lunges low, but Christian is fast, shifting into his beta-form he slashes with his blade and follows quickly with his claws. The knife lands deep, a painful slice into Cas’ right shoulder but he’s able to jump out of the way of Christian’s claws. The wound burns painfully, and Cas’ vision swims.

“How many is that now? Three, four arrows and now my blade?” Christian snarls around his fangs. “The aconite poison… you’re starting to feel it, aren’t you?” He lunges again, and Cas manages to lurch away from his swing. His body heavy, burning hot, the wound in his shoulder isn’t closing, it bleeds thick and sluggish down his flank.

“This all you got?” Christian taunts, moving quickly, his combat training obvious in how he slips around to Cas’ other side and lashes out, slicing through his back leg with the blade. “I thought full-shift wolves were some kinda legend. You’re nothing. Figures Dean would go for a freak like you. Grasping at straws was something he was always good at.”

Pain makes him woozy, and he can feel Dean’s concern pulse through the bond, his confidence in Cas gives him strength. Cas dodges, twigs and leaves slipping under his paws, his jaws snap as his head jerks, but he makes contact. Christian cries out as he falls heavily on his back, Cas’ teeth sink hard into his right thigh. He bites down blood flooding into his mouth, until the bone cracks and Christian chokes, his scream echoing around the mountainside. He flails wildly trying to plunge his blade into Cas’ body but he’s weak now, his system blinded by pain.

It’s easy now, for Cas to step on Christian's wrist, claws flexing until he drops the blade. He leans low, eyes blood red, jowls lifted to flash his pointed teeth as he growls until Christian whines tilting his chin up submitting. Snarling Cas turns and wraps his maw around Christian's booted ankle dragging him by his injured leg back through the forest towards the clearing. He’s quiet for a while whimpering in pain, fingers dragging though the detritus, trying to slow them down, then he starts talking, voice rough and simpering now that he’s slipped back out of his beta-shift.

“Dean doesn’t want you. He’s using you.” Christian chokes hacking a phlegmy wad of spit at Cas’s back “He’ll go back to our Alpha, his rightful Alpha, they’re family. Not just pack, but blood.” Cas pauses mid-stride his eyes flicking back to meet Christians. 

“That's right,” he smirks, “He’ll leave you, and your bond will crumble, it will be painful, agony. I’ll laugh when he does." Christian coughs and Cas growls his jaws tightening on the man's ankle "When Dean returns to Samuel we'll pass him around to the betas just like we used to. He'll need touch, won't he? He'll turn to anyone for comfort; you're not special. The little whore! Christian hacks a wheezing breath.

"I hear breaking a mated pair is supposed to be the worst kind of pain, real agony.  And Dean's always been weak but he doesn’t turn his back on family, he’s a sucker. He’ll do what Samuel tells him to, just like the good bitch he is.”

Cas snarls biting down on the ankle between his teeth until Christian screams, high and shrill, the bone crumbling between Cas’ teeth. No amount of pain he can cause Christian will ever be enough. The words sting like venom in Cas mind. He stumbles forward, feeling Dean through his bond like a beacon calling him home. He needs to see him, to see his face, to look Dean in the eye and know Christian's words aren't true. His injuries make their progress slow, but eventually, he pulls them into the clearing.

“Fuck. Cas.” Dean’s at his side in an instant, soft fingers prodding along his wounds. “You’ll be ok. You’re ok, Alpha.”

“Your only Alpha is Samuel, Dean.” Christian spits, “Just because he claimed you doesn’t make you his.”

Dean's face goes rabid, he snarls turning and landing two rapid, violent punches to Christian's face. Blood spatters over his knuckles as he breaks Christian's nose and lip. The man finally goes limp.

“Don’t listen to a fucking word he says, Cas,” Dean rushes to say lifting Cas' shaggy head, so their eyes meet. “Toxic Cas, they are all toxic. I believed them for so many years. Wasted so much of my life, please, Cas, don’t listen to anything they say.”  

The bond sings, golden bright, with Dean’s conviction, with his honesty and truth. Cas feels like an ass for ever doubting him. Weakly he laps at the underside of Dean’s jaw, tasting the salt and sweat.

“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean says suddenly as Cas flops down, his body weakening, limbs trembling. “What’s going on…  _ shit _ .” Dean leans in and sniffs at the gash on Cas’ right shoulder. “Aconite,” he curses, “Ok Cas I’m going to need you to shift, it’s going to suck. I know, but I need to flush out the poison. Try to hurry; I’ll get everything ready.”

Cas lurches back to his feet, Dean grabs Christian by his good ankle and drags the man towards the cabin. There are two bodies laid out in front of the porch covered in a sheet, and if Cas weren’t so distracted by his pain, he'd be impressed with Dean’s resourcefulness. 

The stinging and burn of poison flays his nerve endings, steals his focus until he cannot feel anything but the fire racing through his muscles as he reaches for his human form. Every pop and shift of his bones is like being dragged over hot coals. Cas comes through the change vomiting in the grass, Dean’s cool hands stroking his back.

“Cas, where is the sat-phone? Cas? Tell me where it is.” 

He has no idea how long Dean’s been asking him, how long he’s blacked out for, but there is a bowl next to his hand, and the water is murky with blood and dirt. 

“Baby, I need to call Benny. I need supplies. Cas please.” Dean’s voice is broken and frustrated.

“Bedroom... closet,” Cas gasps, his mouth tastes like blood and bile; his throat scrapes with each swallow like sandpaper. “Programmed option one.”  his body roils, stomach convulsing as he dry heaves, saliva dripping from his mouth in thick strands.

“Hang on Cas, hang on.” 

Cas blinks looking around the yard; the sun is slinking past its zenith, Christian is tied to a chair on the deck, his mouth is gagged, and he's snarling, shifting in the chair as much as he can. His right leg sticks out at an odd angle, but the bone is no longer protruding from the skin so he must be healing. Cas licks his lips crawling up to his knees, a bout of vertigo makes his vision spin, and he slumps to the side one arm snapping out to stop him from falling face first into his vomit.

“Here, Cas, drink,” Dean says, a steadying hand between Cas’ shoulder blades as he lifts a cup of cool water to his lips. “You’ve been poisoned,” Dean explains as the water slides down Cas’ throat, it burns his abused esophagus. “Benny’s on his way, I’ve explained as much as I can. He’s bringing everything I need to make an antidote. I’m so sorry Cas.”

“Don’t…” Cas rasps, gasping, swallowing roughly. “None of this is your fault.”

“It is.”

“No.” Cas lurches forward his bare chest smacking into Dean’s as he tries to wrap his arms around the omega. Dean curls around him holding him up and Cas turns his face to bury his nose into Dean’s neck. “No.”

A wave of vertigo has the horizon line tipping on him, his stomach cramps painfully. Distantly he hears Dean calling his name as his vision goes black and Cas slips away again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dean's Beta-Form was beautifully done by the one and only Thedogsled.


	17. History

“Is he going to be ok?”

“Yeah. Yeah, you got here just in time. Thanks, Benny.”

“No problem, Dean. He’s important to us, even if he doesn’t realize it.”

Cas’ head swims, he groans, slowly blinking his eyes open. The room is blurry, but the couch under his back is soft. There are new scents in the air something subtle, muted under Dean’s crisp apple scent; it’s spicy and warm: Benny. And then there is something that burns his eyes, drips like toxic waste down his throat, Christian. 

“Dean?” he calls and in an instant Dean is by his side, one wide, warm palm braced on Cas’ chest, the other helping him sit up against the arm of the sofa. “Whats happening?”

“Don't’ talk Cas,” Dean says as he brings a mug to Cas’ lips. “Drink you’re going to be ok. Benny’s here, don’t be upset.”

The liquid is thick and slides like syrup down Cas’ throat, but it's bitter and rancid. It’s hard to swallow, and he pulls away from the mug gasping. Dean sets the mug aside and offers him water which he gulps greedily. Already he’s more settled; his stomach is no longer in spasm, the trembling in his limbs is easing.

“I’m not upset; Benny is always welcome here,” Cas says turning as Benny shuffles a small smile on his lips. “How is Andrea? The pup?”

“Good, good. Thanks.” Benny says shifting his feet, “I wish I coulda come up here with’em; under better circumstances, I will. Was planning on seeing if you’d have’em 'round for your next delivery.”

“Of course Benny,” Cas says adjusting on the couch, his legs stiff and aching. The gash along his right thigh has knitted closed, but a thin pink scar of new flesh remains. Absently he traces it with his finger.

“It will never fully heal,” Dean says his gaze fixated on where Cas is rubbing at the scar. “Aconite poisoning. They coat their weapons in it. It’s one of the few poisons that can kill a were. The death is slow, painful. Our bodies heal so fast, but they can’t fully burn out the poison, so you heat up, burn alive from the inside out.” Dean licks his lips not meeting Cas’ eye, staring unblinkingly somewhere around his collarbone. 

“It starts with muscle cramps, then seizures, organ failure and then, eventually your temperature gets so high that you kinda just boil in your own skin. There’s all sorts of other fun things, hallucinations, itching….” Dean’s eyes are cloudy with memory, and Cas is struck with the horror of his life, of the men who hunted him, torturing Dean with this poison, littering his skin with scars. 

How many times was Dean subjected to this type of agony? How many hours did he spend vomiting, fighting for his life, that he knows the exact treatment by heart, that he could recognize the poison by smell? 

“If you get the antidote in time you’ll be fine... after a while.” Dean smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. “A little achy for a few days, but not any worse for the wear. I mean, aside from the scars.”

“Dean…” Cas’ voice is stripped raw as he stares at Dean. The tightness of his jaw, the compression of his lips tells Cas everything he needs to know about what Dean’s former pack did to him. “Never again,” Cas promises, and Dean gives a stiff nod.

With renewed vigor, with purpose flaming to life deep in his gut Cas sits up, he lifts the mug of antidote and finishes it, chasing the awful paste with the remainder of his water before turning to Benny.

“Notify Alpha Mullen, let him know that there will be a hostile pack invading his territory.”

“When?” Benny asks his eyes hard, jaw tense. Benny will fight, Cas can see it in the set of his stance, the way his shoulders lift, and his scent deepens. 

He will protect his pack, but its more than that Cas realizes as Benny's cool eyes slide from Cas to Dean and back again. Benny will be there for Cas and his mate. He's always been there for Cas because they're friends. Cas blinks roughly, his eyes stinging and Dean instinctively takes his hand. Maybe Cas wasn’t as alone on the mountain as he thought he was.

“I don’t know,” Cas rasps and Benny nods, trusting. His faith in Cas apparent, and overwhelming. Cas looks away. Dean is there to pick up and fill in the information he doesn’t have.

“They are highly trained, mercenaries. They will do anything for a paycheck. Alpha Campbell is ruthless, careless in his regard for those who get in his way. They are trained in hand to hand combat and stealth. We didn’t know they were here until they were already on us.”

“My Alpha should be here for this,” Benny says turning his gaze to Cas, his brows lifted.

“Yes, of course, my borders are open to you and your pack,” Cas says 

“Alpha Novak,” Benny nods his respect to Cas before turning to Dean, “Omega Novak,” he says with a small inclination to his head before he’s heading for the door. “I’ll be back in four hours or less.”

Cas nods as Benny takes his leave. Something warm settling in his stomach, blossoming through his limbs and purring along his instincts. The bond sings in his chest, and Cas knows it’s healing him. This unprovoked confirmation of his pack, of his mate from Benny, it’s healing him. Dean is blushing the tips of his ears pink. 

“Cas…” Dean whispers, already shaking his head.

“It’s who you are.” Cas stops him before he can deny the honor that comes with being his mate. “You’re my mate, Dean. My chosen partner. If we ever have a pack that is more than just us, it’s who you will be to them as well.”

“I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about it. Can’t everyone just call me Dean?” Dean says his brows lifted slightly.

“If you requested it, I’m sure many would respect you and do as much, but there are a few who will hold tight to tradition and call you by the title.”

“Some traditions are stupid, and pointless, though, Cas.”

“That they are,” Cas smiles, “but somethings are crucial, especially for me. And hearing you called my omega, Omega Novak, it soothes me more than you know.”

Sensing Dean’s confusion and possible rebuttal Cas presses on, needing him to understand.

“Alpha’s... we’re designed to have packs, Dean.” Cas says softly, “It’s written into our DNA. The pack makes us stronger; mentally, physically, emotionally, the bonds of our packmates are so much more to an Alpha than they seem.”

“But you went for so long without one,” Dean says, his hand squeezing Cas’ thigh.

“Yes, that I did. And it was not pleasant. You’ve saved me in more ways than you’ll ever know.”

Dean frowns at that, his brows dipping in thought before he leans in and places a soft kiss against Cas’ lips.

“I’m glad I found you,” he says, “So does this make me your second? Alpha Campbell had one, but he seemed pretty useless.”

“I am sure, from what I’ve gathered from your previous pack he was inept. Normally the second is there to take over for the pack if the Alpha dies. It’s usually another genetically presented alpha in the pack, in my case it would be you since we don’t have another alpha.”

“And if we did?”

“If we did have another alpha and they were suitable, I would have them as my second and you as my Alpha’s mate. As long as I am the Alpha your word has just as much weight as mine.”

“Ok, but what if you weren’t? What if something happens to you and your seconds steps up, what happens to me?” Dean’s voice cracks and Cas reach out to grip his hand.

“You won’t be run out of your home, Dean. That’s not how it works.”

“Unless you’re killed in a coupe?”

“I suppose so.” Castiel concedes wearily.

“It wasn’t like this in my old pack.”

“I have a feeling a lot of things about your old pack were not as the should have been, Omega Novak,” Cas says with a small smile, gently nudging Dean’s hip with his knee.

This time Dean’s smile is genuine. “Yeah... yeah, but Novak?”

“What’s wrong with Novak?” Cas asks, but he can tell Dean is playful from the sparkle in his eye.

“Don’t you think Winchester has a better ring to it?”

“No.” Cas snorts, before reaching up and pulling Dean into a kiss.

“Thank you for helping me,” Cas says when they part, their foreheads pressed together.

“Come’on Cas. Of course…” 

“Thank you for trusting me to protect you.”

Dean fidgets, pulling back he nods solemnly. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“No, we aren’t” Cas nudges Dean’s hip until he stands and then, groaning, pulls himself to his feet. “Alpha Mullen will be here with his pack soon we have work to do.”

“Are you sure you should be up? You can’t be feeling well.” Dean says cautiously, his hands held out behind Cas as if to catch him if he falls.

“I’ll be fine.” Cas smiles over his shoulder. “I’ve got you looking out for me don’t I?”

“Yeah,” Dean says, and his grin is small, private, but his scent sings with joy, warmed with love.

They cook enough food for fifteen people, Cas isn’t even sure fifteen people are coming let alone will fit in the cabin but he’d rather have too much than not enough. They use up the last of the fresh storage and are dipping into the dry stock when he hears the sound of Benny’s truck followed closely by two other vehicles climbing the mountain. 

“Twenty minutes out, seven people,” Cas calls to Dean who’s setting out a few bottles of honey-mead and some glasses.

“Was all this necessary?” He asks hands on his hips.

“Yes,” Cas assures him, “Alpha Mullen is doing us a great favor by putting his pack on the line to assist us. He has the numbers; he could run us off the mountain, serve us up on a platter to Samuel Campbell. He isn’t; instead, he’s helping us.”

Dean nods. “Okay. What should I do? Samuel never really let me hang around when he had inter-pack meetings.”

“Just be yourself, if you’re not sure about something let me handle it.” Cas grips Dean by his shoulders. “You do not have to bear your neck to anyone Dean. You’re my mate, the Alpha’s mate. You hold as much right to be here as Alpha Mullen, or I do. Follow my lead, and everything will be fine. Please put on the shirt I left out for you. It has a low collar and will show my mark on your skin. No one will question your right.”

What feels like only moments later, as they are putting the final touches on the main room, the tell-tale squeal of Benny’s breaks in the clearing reaches them, “Stand on my right side just behind my shoulder; this is only for the introductions. It is a place of honor, if we had a second in command they would stand on my left but since we don’t… Ready?”

“Yep,” Dean says, eyes set as Cas opens the front door and steps out into the moonlight.

Standing just feet from the bottom step is Alpha Mullen, he is tall and commanding, salt and pepper hair curls behind his ears, his arms crossed over his chest, forearms bare and corded with muscle. Cas hasn’t seen him in many years, and age has been kind to the older Alpha. 

Behind Alpha Mullens left shoulder is a tall older man with sandy brown hair and the same pale blue eyes as his Alpha. Standing to his right is a handsome older woman with a stern set to her mouth, but the type of lines around her eyes that shows she smiles a lot. Cas recognizes her as Colette. 

“Alpha Novak” Alpha Mullen begins, his voice booming but soft. Behind him, Cas feels Dean shift ever so slightly.

“Alpha Mullen,” Cas responds.

“Pleasure before business, I think.” Alpha Mullen says, and his stern look breaks as he steps forward, his mate and his second moving in tandem with him. In a show of faith, the remaining members of his pack stay where they are, crowded back on the lawn. Cas moves forward extending his right arm in greeting, and Alpha Mullen wraps his a calloused hand around Cas’ forearm. Cas matches the salutation before they both step back. 

“I believe congratulations are in order.” Alpha Mullen begins, rubbing his palms together, his eyes slide to Dean. “Benny informed us you’ve taken a mate? It’s about time.”

Blinking, Cas has trouble hiding his surprise. He wasn’t aware the Mullen pack was so concerned with his well being.

“A fine choice, if I do say so myself.” Alpha Mullen says, stepping up to Dean. Cas stiffens, a low growl rumbling out of his chest before he can stop it. 

Everyone freezes, except Dean who takes a tiny step to his right, placing himself more firmly behind Cas’ shoulder. It’s not a move done in fear, because Dean never once looks away from Alpha Mullens gaze, but Cas realizes, Dean is doing this for Cas' benefit. Reaffirming who’s mate he is in actions and not words. Gently he places his hand on small of Cas’ back and presses softly. It settles him, and his growl cuts off.

Alpha Mullen tips his head back and laughs into the night. The stillness that had fallen over his pack fades away, and his mate slaps him roughly on the arm.

“Really dear,” she whispers, “You know better.”

“I do, I do.” Alpha Mullen smiles. “Forgive me, Alpha Novak, your mate is lovely. I do know better than to approach a newly mated pair, but I just couldn’t help myself.”

“Cain!” Colette sighs.

“Alpha Mullen” the man on his right groans.

“Come now, Colette.” Cain says with a smile “Alpha’s Novak, might I introduce my mate Omega, Colette Mullen, and my second and brother, Abel Mullen.”

“I bid you welcome; you will find both passage and safe harbor in my territory. My mate Omega, Dean Winchester-Novak.”

Alpha Mullen gives a short nod, not even blinking at the use of Dean’s last name in tandem with his own. Dean’s scent, however, sweetens in his surprise.

“Good, now that all the stuffy business is out of the way...”

“Pardon me, Alpha Mullen.” Cas interrupts.

“Cain, if you please.”

“Cain,” Cas inclines his head slightly “my mate, and I would like to extend our congratulations to you, and your pack as well. Benny has made us aware that his mate has pupped and that your pack is one member larger.”

“So it is,” Cain says, with a loving, grandfatherly smile. “A lovely baby girl.” 

Behind him, Dean shifts subtly, his hand, which had fallen away from Cas’ back some time ago, curls into the fabric of Cas’ shirt at his side.

“What’s her name?” Dean says, breathlessly.

“Mary,” Benny calls from the back of the group.

“Mary,” Dean, repeats slowly “An excellent name. My mother's name.” Deans scent deepens, and he takes a quick breath, before clearing his throat he turns his attention to Cain, “Come on in, we’ve made food.”

Cain inclines his head, following Cas and Dean into the cabin. The rest of the pack pours in filling the ordinarily spacious main room. There aren’t enough chairs at the table, but as is customary, Cain, Colette, Abel, Dean, and Cas take up the table with the remainder of Cain’s pack sitting in the living area or standing in the kitchen. Once everyone has had their fill, and they are passing around the bottles of mead, the betas clearing their plates and much to Dean’s pleasure, doing the dishes, Cain directs the conversation back to business at hand.

“Where is the trespasser?”

“Christian is tied up in the smokehouse,”  Cas says, and Cain nods turning his attention to Dean.

“What quarrel do they have with you, and why are you being hunted?” He asks bluntly.

Dean frowns and Cas slips his hand onto Dean's knee under the table.

“You must understand. We want to stand by your side, we do not take threats to our land or people lightly, but you cannot lie to us if we are to to face what is coming.”

“It’s ok, Dean,” Cas whispers, Dean’s eyes dart to him and back to Cain. His hand drops over Cas’ on his knee, and he sets his jaw.

“Samuel Campbell is my grandfather, my mother’s father to be exact.” Dean breathes tension making his spine straight. Cas’ hand tightens on the meat of Dean’s thigh at the realization of how closely related Dean and Samuel are and how poorly Samuel treated Dean. 

“My parents died when I was seven, my brother and I were placed with our closest alpha relative. Unfortunately for us, that was Alpha Campbell. He and my mother were estranged, but the courts didn’t care about that. I’d never met him before the placement. He–he’s a hard man. A demanding and powerful Alpha. He leads with an iron fist and expects perfection, complete obedience from his pack. In turn, they’re rewarded... financially and well... Alpha Campbell turns a blind eye, letting them live out their most deranged fantasies.” 

Dean draws a slow breath lifting his eyes from where they’d dropped to stare at the table, to meet Cain’s, “They hunt us, other weres, I mean, humans too, gender, age, species, nothing matters. They are mercenaries–hired hands, whatever you want to call it. Pay enough, and Alpha Campbell will have his pack meet your every demand. They’re _not_ good people, and they won’t go down without a fight.”

As Dean speaks the rest of the Mullen pack slowly gathers around the table, their faces set and grim. 

“Understood,” Cain says thoughtfully. “I would still like to know what this has to do with you, Dean. Why does he care about you?”

Dean grits his teeth, his scent goes burnt as he fights with himself, lips compressing. His hand squeezes Cas’ to the point of pain under the table. He grunts once, before opening his mouth to continue.

“He had hopes though that I would present as an alpha, as my mother had before me. That he would get his second chance at having a direct descendant to lead his pack. When I didn’t, when my first heat came... Well, it broke that hope, and he broke me.” Dean stands suddenly and yanks his shirt over his head, turning to expose the mangled flesh of his back. 

Cas is on his feet in an instant shifting into his beta-form, reflexively, his protective instincts rearing, he reaches out grabbing Dean’s wrist. “It’s ok Cas.” He says softly, stroking his fingers over Cas’ forearm before turning his attention back to the Mullens. With slow breaths Cas forces his shift back and releases Dean's arm.

“He used me.” Dean starts, and Cas tastes bile rise up in his throat. Dean’s scent of anger and embarassment burns Cas' nose and the wolves around the room fidget at the obvious distress retelling this tale is bringing Dean. 

“He used me in every way, a vulnerable, impressionable fourteen-year-old omega could be used.” Dean spits, pulling his shirt back over his head. He squeezes Cas’ shoulder reassuringly, and they both sit back down, into their chairs. Dean slides his hand down Cas’ arm until their fingers tangle together. Cas is relieved by the contact, Dean isn’t pulling away; he’s seeking comfort, comfort Cas is more than willing to provide it.

“Omegas are very vulnerable during their first few heats; they need a safe environment, encouragement…” Colette says her voice soaked in anger.

“Yeah, yeah, wouldn’t that have been nice?” Dean says, his teeth click as he snaps his jaw closed. Drawing a breath he goes on. “I was looking for a pack, for approval, for the family I had lost when my parents died, and he was only ever looking for another payday. Disgusted with me... With how I ruined his plans for the future of his pack. How weak and useless, how utterly worthless, my filthy omega hormones made me to him.” Dean snarls and Cas knows those are not his words, but the words of Samuel. He squeezes Dean’s hand in his, and Dean refocuses his attention on Cain, 

“How it was now my job to make up for the fact that he’d spent the last seven years training me for something I’d never become. No one says no to what Samuel Campbell wants for long.”

The scent in the room spikes, a muscle in Cain’s jaw jumps, Colette has her fingertips pressed to her lips, eyes wide with horror. The rage in the air is palpable, each wolf picturing the horrors Dean suffered, physically and mentally. 

“That’s enough Dean.” Cas rumbles, voice distorted around his fangs, the mood in the room has more than just Cas slipping into his beta-shift. 

There is such rage coursing through Cas at finally hearing Dean’s tale. It blinds him, pumping through his blood and fueling his beta-shift, his voice grating low with his anger. A few of Cain’s betas are slowly shifting back, the wrath and impotent anger in the room tangible. The only thing that’s keeping Cas in his chair is the firm pressure of Dean’s hand in his. He aches for action, he craves the blood of those who have hurt what is his. Cas closes his eyes and forces the change back. 

Retribution is coming. It is only a matter of time now.

“Y–yeah,” Dean says, voice cracking. He turns his gaze on Cas, eyes somber and leans in, resting his forehead on Cas’ shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way. I shouldn’t have put off telling you for so long.”

“It's ok, Dean,” Cas whispers rubbing softly down his back. “You would have told me when you were ready. If we hadn’t been attacked, you would have told me, of that I trust.”

Dean lifts his head and nods before turning back to face Cain.

“We will purge them from our land,” Cain says, and next to him Colette nods, her eyes hard, lips set. 

“How long until they arrive,” Abel asks, his voice is low, deeper than Cain’s. He speaks with the kind of deliberateness that makes people stop and listen.

“I didn'yt have much time to interrogate him, with Cas’ illness, but Christian said it took them six days to get here. I'm assuming they didn’t rush, as they thought I'd be easy to capture. Knowing that’s not the case anymore, Samuel will cut that in half.” Dean says, “He will push the pack all night if he has to. I estimate two, three days before they’ve made it here and have infiltrated both the mountainside and the village.”

“What can you tell us about their tactics?” Abel asks, waving over his shoulder, a beta steps forward and sets a laptop on the table in front of him. Abel takes notes as Dean speaks.

“Christian was tight lipped and I just didn’t have the time or energy to… convince… him to give me much detail.” Dean starts with a sigh rubbing his fingers between his eyebrows. “They’re smart, always prepared. They will do substantial research before they come. Expect them to know the topography and layout of both the mountain and the village. Samuel will have three different plans for attack, and at least as many exit strategies.”

“They can cloak their scents, and they have humans in the pack,” Cas adds, and Dean nods.

“All of their weapons will be either dipped, tipped, or coated in aconite poison. I’ve taught Benny how to make the antidote, and we will need to have it on hand, both in paste and liquid form. If any of your people are hit, they _must_ retreat immediately.”

“Is it that serious? The poison, I mean.” Cain asks, his brows lifting, “Benny informed me that Castiel had a plethora of injuries when he arrived earlier tonight.”

To that Dean smiles, his chest puffing out. “I’ve never seen anything like it. No one should have been able to withstand the amount of poison Cas had in his system, but then again Cas is a full-shift wolf.” 

The tension in the room skyrockets as Dean reveals Cas’ secret. Cain’s eyes flick to Cas’ immediately, his brow furrowing. The betas fidget nervously, and Colette’s manicured eyebrow lifts. Cas flounders, words stuck in his throat as he tries to ensure Cain that his pack is in no danger, but Dean goes on obviously proud of the current of fear Cas’ mere presence instills in an entire pack of wolves.

“I think it’s what saved his life,” Dean says. “Being a full-shift wolf makes Cas stronger, faster, more agile in every other way, why wouldn’t it give him a higher tolerance to the poison? Cas and his wolf form will give us an edge in the battle.”

“Not anymore.” Cas interjects “Christian was on his sat-phone when I found him, informing someone about my full-shift. I am sure they will come prepared.”

“Shit.” Dean curses and Cas squeezes his hand.

“No matter, we will be ready.” Cain says, “We still have something they do not.”

“What’s that?” Dean asks.

“Intimate knowledge of the arena they have stupidly chosen to make their stand in.” 

“Our family has lived in the shadow of this mountain for generations.” Abel picks up where Cain left off. “And in the years Alpha Novak has been living here our bond to the land has only grown stronger. I do not believe that the Campbell pack will expect you to bring an army of your own.”

“They will assume it is just the two of you,” Colette speaks nodding to Abel, and Cas notes how like a well-oiled machine they are. Picking up on one another queues and moving seamlessly through the difficult conversation. “While they might be prepared to take on Castiel’s wolf form, they will not expect a second pack to be here supporting you.”

“Something else that works in our favor is you Castiel. Your history, your isolation, what happened to your pack that drove you to be a recluse, it is not a secret.” Cain continues. “If Dean is right, and we have no doubt that he is, then Alpha Campbell will have done his research about the wolf who accepted what he views as ‘his omega.” 

Cas stiffens, lips peeling back in a silent snarl at the idea of this Samuel Campbell still thinking he has any claim to Dean. Cain plows on though, “He will know you’re packless. That you’ve been living on the mountain alone for many years. He will build his attack plan around that information.”

“Do you have a military background?” Dean asks, his eyes narrowed.

Abel rolls his shoulers and drops his gaze to the computer. Cain smiles “Something like that,” he says slyly. Cas looks between them, suspicious.

“Good. But considering the circumstances, I’d feel a hell of a lot better if Cas and I knew we weren’t letting another group of vipers into our den,” Dean says suddenly, with conviction. “I’d rather die than go back to the Campbell pack, but I’m not stupid, I know that no help comes without a price.”

Cain leans forward, his eyes cool and calm, he steeples his fingers under his chin and purses his lips. “Do you know how long Castiel has been living on this mountain?” he asks slowly, his voice dark and dangerous and it makes the hairs on Cas’ neck stand on end.

When Dean remains, silent Cain goes on. 

“He’s been living here seventeen years. He showed up in our town one night battered, half-starved, stinking of broken bonds and with eyes more haunted than anything I’d ever seen in the special forces. He formally requested a meeting with the local Alpha, with me, and while I didn’t need to give a lost pup the time of day, let alone an audience in the middle of the night, there was something about him that called out to me. I’d never seen anyone that broken, carrying that much pain, but still persevering. He was strong, even then, and I’ve been looking out for Castiel, whether he realizes it or not, ever since.”

Cas shifts in his chair, Dean’s hand tightening around his own. He never realized this, but now that he really thinks about it there would have been no way he’d have survived his first few winters if someone wasn’t looking out for him. 

He’d always lived in comfort, and suddenly having all that taken from him, all those injured rabbits he’d just happen to come across when he was most hungry. The multitude of times he’d found a discarded hikers pack in the woods, full of books on building shelters, or foraging, rations and clothes. How had he been so oblivious? He was young, and desperate, and still healing from the broken bonds to really question anything that happened to him the first few years on the mountain.

"Why?" Dean asks, his eyes narrowed and Cas finds joy in the way his omega comes to his defense.

“For a long time, I considered grooming Castiel as my second, in the years before Abel returned to us. That's changed now, Abel has come home to his pack and we have worked through our differences. Castiel had resisted all of our attempts to persuade him from his isolation, so intent on his self imposed isolation. Now that you are here, rebuilding your pack with Dean by your side, Castiel, our previous hopes do not matter anymore. Even so, we are happy to have you on our borders."

Cas’ head is spinning his ears burn, and he feels like the air is being pressed from his lungs. All those years he thought he was alone people were looking out for him, watching over him. If only he had pulled his head out of his ass for just one moment to see what was around him, instead of reliving the disaster of his past, he’d have seen it.

“This is as much for the safety of our pack, as it is for yours,” Abel adds. "We have no interest in entertaining the idea of the Campbel pack coming and and whiping you out only to claim your land and remain as a hostile force on our borders.  


“We are happy to have you by our side.” Dean says, his voice wavers. “Your experience and wisdom, your kindness and understanding, it is invaluable. Thank you.”

“ _Thank_ _you_ , Dean,” Cain says softly. “Now that there is no more dirty laundry to air out, I noticed the two bodies outside. I assume they are the what remains of the faction sent with Christian to retrieve you?”

“Yes,” Dean confirms.

“We will burn them,” Cas says, but Cain waves his hand.

“We’ll take them back with us. Turn their corpses over to the local Pack Enforcement and Relations Bureau. I’ll be sure to explain the circumstances in detail. Since you are a newly mated pair, I know they will understand when we let them know you did not feel comfortable leaving your den after such a gruesome attack was made against you both. I don’t foresee there being too much pushback for Cas asking a friendly Alpha for assistance in his time of need.”

“Garth, our local P.E.R.B. officer is also close personal friend,” Colette says with a soft smile. “He will handle this promptly. I would even expect that, if and when, this Alpha Campbell does show up, Garth will be on our side with the full weight of the law. Alpha Campbell lost all right to you the moment you were taken from his care, Dean. He has no claim over you now that you’ve found your true Alpha.”

“Speaking of,” Cain says suddenly, “A gift, to congratulate you on the mating. I fear, due to the circumstances, it was selected more for its usefulness than anything else.”

With a wave of his hand another of his beta’s step forward and place a laptop computer on the table between Dean and Cas.

“We did not have time to obtain something more fitting for a mating gift, but I felt it's appropriate to complete the custom nonetheless and provide you both a gift.” He pauses as Dean looks over the device. “Benny has complained in the past that it's not as easy as he would like to get in touch with you,” at that Cas looks over at the beta who smiles in his embarrassment. “Taking into account the small window of time we have to prepare for the battle ahead, I thought this would be a most appropriate item.”

“It’s fitted with a wifi hotspot through an updated and more reliable satellite connection than the one you currently have.” Abel says “We have set up a messenger program that will allow you to communicate with our pack directly. It's how we keep in touch with one another. If you ever decide to obtain cellphones, we can have it installed on those as well.”

“We would appreciate it if you could check in once a day with us,” Colette says, and her voice is soft, her eyes round with compassion. “We will do the same. Do you need Abel to show you how the messenger program works?"

Cas does, he’s sure of it, and he’s about to say as much when Dean says “No, thank you. I am familiar with this program, it’s the same one we used at the omega house.”

“Excellent,” Cain says as he stands from the table, Abel, and Colette following his lead. “We will take Christian and the bodies with us, turn everything over to the authorities. He will be facing some seriously damning charges for crossing into my and your pack boundaries without proper sanctions, nevermind attacking an alpha’s mate, attempted murder, and abduction of a mated omega. I do not foresee him being released anytime soon.”

The pack slowly files out of the house, bidding Dean and Cas goodbye. They are careful not to get too close to Dean, and a few of them still smell of fear as they pass by Cas lowering their eyes in a sign of respect. 

“Thank you for everything,” Cas says as Abel passes him, they clasp forearms briefly, and Abel steps out into the night.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this kind of blood rush,” Cain says, flippantly as he stops to clasp forearms with Cas. His blue eyes sparkle brightly with the kind of mischief that would normally make Cas worried. “I look forward to seeing the majesty of your full-shift Castiel.”

“I will hope it doesn’t come to that, but if so….” They meet eyes for a long moment, two alphas silently assessing the other.

“Oh for the love of…” Colette sighs and throws her arms around Dean. “Alphas,” she laughs, and Cas feels a mild rush of embarrassment.

“Why doesn’t it bother him when you touch me,” Dean asks as he nuzzles his nose into Colette’s hair.

“I’m a mated omega, Dean. Just like you.” She pulls back and smiles, “and while you’re, really rather handsome, you’re just not my type. Castiel and his wolf are aware I’m no real threat to his claim on you.”

“Huh,” Dean says like he understands something he didn’t before.

“Once this is all over, you drag your Alpha down the mountain and join us for a full moon run.”

“I will,” Dean tells her with a soft smile. “Thank you for everything.”

Colette cups his jaw and scrunches her nose at him, fondness in her scent, before turning to Cain. “Are you going to hold his arm all night, dear?” She asks, and Cain blinks down at where he and Cas are still clasping forearms.

“Well, no,” he says with a chuckle, “Though it is a rather nice forearm.” Cain gives Cas a once over and winks.

“Oh lord,” Colette sighs, grabbing Cain’s arm and dragging him out the door mumbling, “insatiable flirt….they're newly mated…. don’t push Castiel like that…. So rude to tease his wolf....”

Dean shuts the door on them with a small laugh, and Cas can’t help but scoop Dean up in his arms and rub against him until their scents mix, and all the tension drains from Dean’s body.

Cas plummets into an early rut the very next day.


	18. The Woods

Dean’s back bows beautifully under Cas’ hands as he runs them up Dean’s ribs, careful of his claws, Dean’s hips press back, and he trembles under Cas’ mouth.

“Cas, Cas.” He pants hotly, his face pressed into the pillow. “Yeeesss…” Dean groans, low, drawing out the word as Cas spears inside of him, his tongue long in his beta shift, almost as agile as it is in his wolf form. “More, more,” Dean begs and Cas laps as his entrance, drinking down his slick and the come he’s left there.

His cock hangs half hard between his legs, his knot shrinking as he eats Dean out. It’s the second time in as many hours that he’s taken Dean under him. Fucking him hard and fast and knotting them tight together, only to slip out later and lick Dean clean. Lick him until he’s writhing, begging and Cas is hard and aching again.

Releasing Dean’s hips, Cas crawls up his body as Dean melts into the mattress, sighing contentedly. “I told you,” he says, lips quirked in a half smirk.

“Told me what?” Cas rumbles his voice low and rough, as he mouths along Dean’s shoulder feeling him shiver.

“I told you you’d rut more if there were other wolves around.”

Cas can’t help but chuckle as Dean wiggles under him, rolling onto his back and straining up for a kiss. Cas sinks against him, gently nibbling at his bottom lip before plunging into the warmth of his mouth.

“I guess so,” Cas says, as they pull apart, not bothering to mention the attack, that just the thought of Dean being taken from him made him insane.

Slowly running his palm up Dean’s bicep, Cas memorizes the soft stretch of sweat-slick skin, how Dean’s muscles bunch as he moves, the strength hidden there. Just the thought of never being able to touch him again, to see his smile. To know that Cas had failed him, his pack, again; to even think that Dean could return to abuse and torture... it would have pushed anyone, not just Cas, to the edge of their sanity. For Cas though, it had forced him into an early rut, with the need to feel, to touch, to claim his mate, reaffirm their bond in the most primal way.

He drops his hand stroking Dean’s brow, tracing his fingertips around his eye, gently fanning over his lashes. “You’re perfect,” Cas says before pressing a swift kiss on Dean’s lips. “Thank you for giving this to me.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Dean says rolling his eyes.

“I know it’s honestly not the best time for it…”

“Like that’s something you can control.”

“I know I can't, but we should be preparing,” Cas says slipping off Dean’s chest to curl around him on the bed. “I don’t want to be taken by surprise. It’s been two days of this, I’ve cost us two days.”

“You’re really good at the martyr thing aren’t you?” Dean frowns. “Look I’m not going to put my life on hold for them anymore Cas. I’m not going to put our lives on hold for them. I spent too long jumping through their hoops, and I won’t do it anymore.” Dean turns on his side throwing an arm over Cas’ ribs and pulling him close. He drops his face into the curve of Cas’ neck drawing a slow breath and says more quietly. “I wanna be able to live my life without having to look over my shoulder. To worry that a Campbell is going to be there, waiting in the shadows, to snatch me back.”

“You will. Dean. You will.”

The computer sitting on the dresser pings and Dean groans in frustration. 

“Stay, let me,” Cas says as he slips from the bed. His rut is just about over, the heat of his limbs receding, his craving to claim Dean, to breed him, is less of a compulsion and more of a buzzing in the back of his mind.

The message is from Abel, checking in and laying out their plan of defense. Cas clicks open accompanying the attachment. It’s a detailed schematic of the town and the mountainside. There are choke points, funnel zones and easily defensible areas marked over both the town and the mountain. Cas is familiar with the mountain, and Abel has marked several cliffs and boulders as defensive positions and the dried out stream as a choke point.

"They're good," Dean says looking over Cas' shoulder.

"Yeah..." Cas agrees, though out of the two of them Dean has the training and experience.

"I wouldn't have considered this stone formation." Dean points to the map and Cas can only nod.

If he hadn't gone into rut, Cas would have been obsessing over all that he's learned about the Mullen pack. At first it was mildly concerning to such a capable pack on his border, but now that he knew the truth it was a blessing to have them. That even when he could only see darkness others were seeing the future he could have, and encouraging him towards it. Cas is sure that without their gentle guidance and support he wouldn't be here right now, with Dean at his side.

“Well, let's just be glad you made such a good impression on them."

“I–I guess I did…”

Cas never imagined that was the case, that when he stumbled into town so many years ago, that the Mullen pack would not only look kindly on him but view him as an ally one day. He’s thankful for it now.

“This is a good plan,” Dean says flicking through the schematics and maps. “I’m going to make a few suggestions based on what I know about the Campbell's tactics and see what Abel has to say.”

“According to the message they are going to be setting up scent decoys to help control the Campbells movement, and they want us to try and leave a heavy scent trail over these paths.” Cas points at the map and Dean nods.

“Look like we are going to be doing some hiking.”

Dean gets sick the next morning. He’s sweating, vomiting, complaining of a headache and Cas isn’t really sure how to help him. Were’s don’t get sick, and Dean is vehement it’s just nerves, but he’s pale, and his scent is off. Dean skips breakfast, opting for water over coffee as he and Cas hit the trails for their morning hike.

Benny and a woman named Lenore meet them on the border of Cas’ territory. They hand over a set of long-range walkie-talkies and a few infrared heat sensors explaining that they link up to a computer bank in the poliece station. Andrea, his mate, and a few other non-combat pack members will be running surveillance on the sensors and the small network of traffic cams in town, twenty-four seven. Cas and Dean are to set their sensors up around the cabin and along the trails.

“Garth got word from the P.E.R.B branch in Carver City that a small caravan of trucks and SUV’s is making its way north. So far they’ve been traveling peacefully, abiding the law and such, so there’s been no legal reason to intercept them.” Benny says.

“That’s less than twelve hours from here.” Cas looks to Dean, jaw set.

“We should expect them any time now.” Dean frowns giving Cas a stiff nod. “If they’re that close they won’t waste time stopping. They’ll plow forward. Tell Cain to be ready.”

“We are, brother. We are.”

With that, they depart, leaving Dean and Cas to set up the sensors along the mountain. Dean spends the rest of the afternoon making aconite antidote. He bottles it in powder form, makes packets of paste, and readies cups of tea. He sends a message with detailed instructions on how to administer the antidote in the field, and if it comes down to it, the cabin will be a fall back base for the injured. 

Cas focuses on reinforcement; the windows are shuttered, he removes the push latch from the door, instead installing a lock and bar. He’s out in the woods setting up trip wires, and hangman's traps when Dean appears at his side. He’s wearing thick rubber kitchen gloves, and his eyes are puffy.

“I found this in the back storage by the fishing supplies.” He says holding out Cas’ old throw-net. “I coated it in aconite paste; I think we could use it as a drop trap or something.”

“Excellent idea Dean. I’ll get it set up and then send an updated map to the Mullen’s” Cas moves to take the net, but Dean stops him.

“Gloves,” he says sniffling and turning his hip to show the rubber gloves hanging out of his back pocket. “I rigged one over the front door. Last line of defense sort of thing. If anyone makes it there, whoever is inside can pull the trigger and drop the net. It should incapacitate any wolf; unfortunately, it’s too lightweight to do any good on a human.”

“Dean…”

“I–I’m sorry Cas,” Dean says suddenly a tear escaping from his eye. He lifts his shoulder, turning his head to wipe it away. “I’m sorry I brought all of this to you, I’m sorry my very presence has fucked up your life so much… I ruin everything, and you don’t deserve this. I–I can’t go back though, please...”

“Dean, no,” Cas says standing, “You’ve brought me back from the brink. My life was going nowhere, meant nothing. I didn’t care if I lived or died, I was going feral. You saved me Dean, and this," he spreads his arms indicating everything around them, "This is the very _least_ I could do for you. You haven’t ruined anything. You… you’re everything, _everything_. As long as I have you I don't need anything else. No one will take you from me. No one will hurt you anymore.”

Dean lets out a slow breath before nodding once. His face determined. “Set up the net between the smokehouse and storage shed. It’s hard to get any scents from over there as it is.”

“I will, I'll rig it to a trip wire.” Cas says as Dean turns to go. The back of his neck is pale, and the collar of his shirt is dark where he’s sweat through it.  “Dean,” Cas calls “How are you feeling.”

“Fine, Cas. Fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man.” Dean spins on his heel walking backward to wave a gloved hand at Cas. “Being around all that aconite… you know…?”

“Ah… of course,” Cas says with a frown,

Dean skips lunch. He cooks dinner for Cas–burgers and potato salad–but nibbles on crackers and cheese himself, and only after Cas makes him. Cas’ concern deepens when Dean slinks off to bed early, shoulders hunched face drawn and tired.

Cas wakes a few hours later to the sound of Dean in the bathroom vomiting again. He’s about to go to him, dread curling low and tight in his stomach when the alarm on the laptop blares to life. The screen clicks on glowing bright in the darkness of their bedroom. 

The chat program pops up, messages are streaming. The Mullen pack, is mobilizing, they’ll be up the mountain in thirty minutes, but that’s not what Cas is focused on. The video link is live streaming information from the heat sensors. Blurry red and orange blobs scurry through the brush, their forms distorted with how heavily they are armed. The camera switches, a second unit is converging on the cabin. The long-range walkie crackles to life, someone is shouting orders, but Cas can only think of one thing.

There are men in the woods.

“ _Dean_!” Cas growls, throwing himself from the bed. He doesn’t bother with clothes; he’d have to take them off later when he shifts.

Dean slides into the room, eyes round, face pale. The glow of the computer screen makes him look more dead than alive, and Cas has to touch him to be sure. Dean clicks through a few screens on the laptop; his skin is clammy and cold under Cas’ fingertips.

“We’re going to be ok Cas,” Dean says, his eyes determined as he reaches for the walkie.  Everything is moving around Cas in slow motion, each beat of his heart thunders in his ears. Dean’s calm though, his scent, his pulse. Calm like he’s done this a million times before. Calm like nothing can scare him, and Cas stares in wonder at him.

“We’re gonna be fine, babe.” Dean’s says turning so they're facing one another, his hand slides around the back of Cas neck and pulls him in for a rough kiss. “We’re gonna be fine.”

Cas can only nod as Dean lifts the walkie to his mouth and starts providing intel. The Mullen pack is on the move, fanning out at the edge of Cas’ territory and pushing up the mountain fast. The heat sensors are being triggered in rapid succession. The computer pings repeatedly and Cas watches the digital map update. 

The way the Campbel pack is moving, they will be in the clearing in less than twenty minutes. The Mullen' trailing them by ten.

“We have a ten-minute window we will need to fill,” Cas says eyes on the computer. One of his snare traps has been tripped, slowing down the pod coming from the northeast. “The traps are working,” Cas says as Dean starts to dress. 

“Good!” Dean says, he snatches one more kiss to Cas’ lips “I love you,” he whispers gently knocking their foreheads together. “Go kick some ass, Alpha. I'll be feeling you,” gently he presses his palm to the center of Cas' chest, indicating the warmth of their bond. "We'll be ok," he says, and with one last kiss Dean scrambles out of the room pulling his boots on as he goes.

They’ve got a plan; they're going to stick to it. Cas lifts the window and slips out into the night.


	19. Campbell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** We're gonna get a little _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ up in this bitch. I'm earning that: Graphic Depictions of Violence tag here, a little bit of blood, a little bit of gore. Side ordering of the _bad guy gets it™_ , and then maybe, cause I love you so much, some fluff.

It’s easy, too easy to slip into the night, to become the darkness. Cas slides into his fur, paws silent as death along the brush strewn earth. The world is loud in his ears, hearts pounding, calling out to him, beating like the drums of war against his skull. He can smell them. The taint they leave is putrid in the air, easy to follow. It’s all so _easy_. 

He hunts. A wraith in the night, like death incarnate, he wipes them out, one by one, they crumple like leaves under his fangs, his claws. Maybe they were prepared, maybe they weren’t. Maybe they believed Christian's warning about Cas’ wolf form; maybe they didn’t. Either way, no matter how many arrows, how many knives or guns with bullets coated in aconite they have, they are still woefully unprepared for Cas to be released upon them.

There a gash along his ribs that’s stinging badly, the fabric of someone's jacket lodged between two of his fangs, he tastes blood, breathes in death. His senses infused with it, making it hard for him to get insight from his surroundings, so as a figure steps from the trees next to him it takes him by surprise and a low growl of warning erupts from his chest.

“Easy, easy,” Benny slurs around his fangs, hands lifted palms out, non-threatening. He’s dressed in camo and has a rifle tucked into the crook of his arm; his features are heavy in his beta-shift; his nose wide, lips stretched around his sharp teeth and his brow ridge thickly prominent over his bright blue eyes. Slowly he takes in the carnage: six bodies, some human, some were, lay limp, a few groaning around their last breaths. Others are no more than bits and pieces flung over fallen trees, their innards sticking wetly to the underbrush. “Easy there. Well, you don’t do anything halfway do ya?” 

Cas huffs shaking his head, flinging bits of gore and saliva off his snout. He eyes the other wolf before rumbling a questioning noise.

“We’ve pushed the last faction towards the clearing. This group has been the hardest to pin down; we think the Alpha is with them. They’re coming in hot, but if we leave now, we can cut them off before they reach the cabin.” Benny’s already jogging, and his pace picks up as Cas swings into step beside him. Cas growls, and they start to run–no reason to hide their approach. He tosses his head back and howls, dark and foreboding into the night. Around him the forest trembles, even the insects fall silent. Then quite suddenly, panting loudly at his side Benny howls and the rest of the Mullen pack repeats his call. 

Cas feels the power infusing him, pushing him. Having a pack supporting him is euphoric–even if it's not really his pack–they still have some semblance of a bond, and it feeds him. His paws eat up the earth, leaving Benny behind, and he’s sprinting into the clearing just as the cabin door flies open, and Dean steps out in the night. The golden-warm glow of the cabin silhouettes him, a shotgun cradled in his arms. Cas skids to a stop in front of the deck, chest, and shoulders heaving, snarling at the forest line. Off to the east Benny, Abel and a small pod of Mullen betas sprint out of the woods, to the west Cain, Colette and Lenore emerge slowly, their eyes flashing in the moonlight.

“Impressive,” Cain says, as he takes in Cas' wolf form for the first time. Cas only spares him a glance. There’s another voice calling from the trees, directly in front of the cabin and it makes his hackles rise.

“Needless to say we were underprepared for this little _rescue_ mission.” The voice is low and gruff, laced with alpha inflection. It rasps more in the way of age than power. “I will admit, our intel was lacking. I didn’t realize you had the backing of a pack… nonetheless….”

An older man, grizzled and balding steps out of the treeline. He’s dressed like the rest of his pack, military-grade gear, and camo outfit, the only weapon he carries is a long wicked blade and his claws. His shoulders are broad and his stride powerful, but he’s gone soft with his age, his bulk more mass than muscle now. Cas can envision how he looked ten years ago. How a young impressionable omega would look up to him, seek his approval. 

“We’re here to take you home Dean. Come on now.” The words come out friendly, the smile on the man's face seems kind, but the alpha inflection laced into it is a command, meant to be obeyed. Cas snarls.

“I’m not going anywhere.” Dean snaps, cocking the shotgun. Cas rumbles his approval.

“Oh yes,” he says again feigning surprise, the small group of wolves at his back fanning out into the clearing “I suppose we’ll have to deal with this Alpha first. You’ll be much more compliant as your bond breaks. You’ll come willingly then.” 

“Never.”

“Is that any way to speak to your Alpha.” Samuel snarls, his face partially shifting, fangs dropping eyes flashing red before he clears his throat and smiles again. It’s the first time he’s shown his true colors; a demented, depraved insanity that Cas can see as clearly as he can smell it. The other wolf's scent is bitter with his madness; it leaves the burn of bile coating Cas' tongue.

“You’re not my Alpha.” Dean breathes, eyes narrowed.

“I will always be your Alpha, Dean.” Samuel snarls, his eyes flashing he steps further into the clearing, his gaze focused on Dean. “You belong to me, to my pack. I’ll do with you as I wish. Now get over here.”

That’s enough, Samuel has crossed too far, invaded Cas' territory, threatened his mate, taken up too much of their time, and Dean's life. Cas itches to put an end to him. 

He can hear the Mullen pack moving around, ready to intercept the betas from the Campbell pack, he trusts them to see it done because Samuel is _his_. He can’t, won't focus on anything else. Cas snarls snapping his jaws, eyes flashing red as he puffs himself up to his full size, finally drawing Samuels eyes from Dean.

“You...” Samuel snarls his face contorting in rage. “Tonight you die. I’m going to rip your throat out with my claws and make Dean skin you as you die,” Samuel promises darkly. “I’ll lay your pelt out on the ground at the foot of my bed and make him sleep on it every night.”

Samuel laughs, his head tossing back, his cackle rumbling into a snarl as his eyes bleed red, his features shifting. Samuel’s beta-form is more massive than any Cas has seen before. His muscles expand, pushing at the limits of his loose-fitting jacket. His bones pop and snap into place as he grows in both size and mass. 

It’s a testament to how far off the rails Samuel has gone that his beta shift is more wolf than man, his face twisted, nose broad and flat, lips splitting, bleeding and healing only to be ripped open again around the jagged fangs protruding from his gums. The claws that slide from his fingertips are long, sharp and jaggedly curved. He stands a clean foot over the closest beta of his pack, but he’s still small compared to Cas’ wolf form.

“You’re standing between me and what's mine.” Samuel slurs around his fangs. It’s not the first time Cas wishes he could talk in his wolf form, but his lips and tongue are just not made for human speech, he can, however, feel Dean’s mirth and conviction pulsing in his chest through their bond. Dean’s not scared, he believes in Cas and his ability to take Samuel down. His eyes narrow and he steps towards the other alpha, sending his feelings through the bond towards Dean.

“You better turn back now, Samuel,” Dean says, feeding words to Cas’ emotions. “Turn yourself over to the Mullen pack. Turn yourself in for the crimes you’ve committed against me and so many other innocent people, and we will let you and your beta’s live.” Cas huffs as he steps to the right, moving ever closer to Samuel, a slowly shrinking circle, stalking his prey. 

“Not that you deserve to live. Not that living out the rest of your pathetic life behind bars is a fitting punishment, but my Alpha is a better person than either of us. I’d just as happily see you gutted, but Cas thinks you’d fester longer in jail, in isolation. Honestly, maybe he’s right, knowing you're slowly going feral. That you'll whatever shreds of humanity you still cling to, that you’ll go insane and take your betas with you." Dean scoffs, "They obviously can’t seem to function without you. Nice little feedback loop you've got them stuck in.”

Dean’s boots thump heavy as he moves down the first step of the deck, careful to remain close to the cabin, his voice dark, even as joy burns bright through their bond. Cas wonders how long Dean’s been waiting to face off against his old Alpha. “You know what they do to wolves that go insane, don’t you Samuel?”

“Alpha!” Samuel snaps, spit flying passed his teeth, as if reminding Dean of his title will make him use it. Behind Samuel his betas fidget, their eyes drifting nervously from Cas’ hulking wolf to the deformed, rage-driven mass of their Alpha.  

“Better to put him out of his misery, Cas. I don’t even think he understands what’s going on anymore. Maybe his beta’s will have a chance of survival in prison after he’s dead.”

Samuel breaks eye contact with Cas, snarling at Dean and flexing his claws. Cas uses the other Alpha's distraction to leap at him, a low rumble resonating from his chest. The shotgun fires behind Cas and the snarling rumbling sounds of battle erupt in the clearing. 

Growling Cain orders the Mullen pack taking whatever remains of the Campbell pack head-on. Dean shouts from the deck, his shotgun cocking, but Cas only has eyes for Samuel.

Samuel dodges Cas’ first lunge, swiping out with a long-fingered hand, claws just missing Cas’ snout. Samuel stumbles but remains upright, bending down into a crouch. 

Over Samuel’s shoulder Cas sees Dean charge along the right side of the deck, shotgun held out in front of him he fires, body swaying with the kickback. He’s beautiful even now, in the heat of battle, calm and controlled. Dean shouts out to the wolves in the clearing, pointing and growling, providing support as the epicenter of the fray. Effortlessly he swings around and flicks the shotgun, dropping new shells into the barrel and takes aim, marching to the other side of the deck. 

It's odd, the relief Cas feels when Dean doesn’t immediately jump into the fray. While Cas is positive Dean could hold his own in the fight, he's thankful that Dean's sudden illness is keeping him close to the cabin…...

Cas realizes his mistake the moment he’s made it. Samuel flings himself forward, jaws snapping, taking advantage of Cas’ distraction, and locks his teeth deep into Cas’ flank, claws digging into the bone and muscle of his ribs.

Snarling Cas launches himself to the ground, dropping the full weight of his four hundred pounds onto Samuels form, dislodging the other alpha's hold before flipping back to his paws and going on the offensive. Samuel grunts, wheezes but manages to get back to his feet just as Cas charges him. He swipes with his claws gashing down the front of Samuels shirt and cutting clean through his skin. He’s already healing, and Cas snarls as he watches the wounds on Samuels chest close. 

“I’m going to be harder to kill than that, boy.” Samuel snarls, lunging, arm outstretched claws poised, but Cas is faster he snaps biting down on Samuel's wrist, bone shattering between his teeth, tendon snapping. 

Samuel howls his other hand lashing out scraping through the thick fur of Cas’ neck.  Cas doges back a few steps turning, jaws parted on the attack again when the shotgun goes off closer this time. Samuel lurches, coughing, blood spitting from his lips, his eyes widen as he looks down at his chest. His clawed fingers graze a clustering of bullet wounds already seeping bright crimson down his front. The holes try and close but its sluggish and slow, and the red turns sludge brown, oozing thick like tar, and as Samuel looks down. He coughs again, blood drooling past his fangs, covering the meager stubble on his chin. 

“No…” He gasps, his breath gurgles in his lungs. Cas can already smell the aconite poison burning its way through Samuels body. It's rancidity bearly making a dent in the alpha's putrid scent. He’s happy to let the Samuel die slowly, agonizingly. 

“Do it.” Dean snarls, finally stepping from the safety of the deck shotgun poised, trained on Samuel, as he strides up to Cas side. 

Between one step and the next Cas shifts from his wolf to his beta form. His arm snaps out, his skin scraped and bloody, claws wrapping around Samuel’s throat as the other alpha falls to his knees. 

“Wait.” Deans hand slaps against Cas’ bare chest. “Where’s my brother? What did you do to him?”

Samuel laughs his face twisted as blood drips from his lips. “You…. you’re both the same,” He wheezes breath gurgling in his lungs, his eyes are dark, swimming between the dead red of his alpha and the cool blue of his human. “C-c-cowards, useless.” He gulps a breath and uses the air to spit at Dean. “Disgusting.”

“Where is my brother?” Dean growls teeth clenched. He cocks the shotgun and presses the barrel against Samuels temple. “WHERE IS HE?”

“Ran.” Samuel leans into the barrel point, his skin bunching over the metal as his eyes flutter closed and he smiles. “The moment he could. He ran the spineless... useless, alpha. Somethings wrong with you... your genes… your Daddy….” Samuel gasps, chokes and Cas tightens his hand around the other man’s throat. “...was weak! No… no wonder… his pups turned out so defective.”

Dean growls the shotgun trembles in his grip. Rage and pain are singing over the bond, and slowly Cas reaches out, gently placing his free hand on the back of Dean’s neck. All the tension wooshes out of him, he deflates under Cas’ touch, the shotgun going limp at his side.

“Dean…?”

“Yeah.” Dean says, eyes flicking to meet Cas’ “Yeah. Do it.”

With lightning quick reflexes Cas pulls his hand away from Dean’s neck and steps forward, his arm bulging as he lifts Samuel into the air by his throat. Samuels' legs kick, his eyes protrude, and his hands scrabble at Cas’ wrist. 

“You’ll never hurt anyone ever again,” Cas says around his fangs, pulling his free hand back and plunging it, claws first, into Samuels' chest. His skin gives like wet paper; ribs crack like dried twigs. Cas snarls into the night as he pulls Samuels heart from the bloody mess of his chest. 

With immense disdain, Cas drops Samuels twitching body to the ground and lifts his head surveying the madness still going on around them. Dean is quiet by his side eyes locked on Samuel’s dead, broken body. He reaches out with his clean hand and takes Dean’s

“It’s over,” Cas says.

“Yeah.” Dean nods “It’s almost over.” His gaze is drawn to the mayhem. “Make it stop.”

Drawing a deep breath Cas' roar echoes into the night. The sound of his call trembles the earth under their feet, everyone in the clearing stops moving. The authority in his bellow is unquestioned.

“Your Alpha is dead,” Cas booms into the silence, his voice more wolf than human. He lifts Samuel’s dripping heart over his head. “You. Will. Submit.”

One by one the members of the Campbell pack drop to their knees, some faster than others, but eventually, they all submit, heads tilted back to expose their necks, eyes flaring blue. Cas could accept any of them if he so wanted. The bond to their previous Alpha utterly destroyed, he could walk up to any of them run his scent over them and claim them as his own, but he won't. They aren’t worthy; instead, he will let them fester, lost and bondless.

“Disarm and surrender to Alpha Mullen,” Cas demands, and they do, scrambling to drop their blades and guns and bows, before shuffling on their knees, crawling with their heads bent towards Cain. “You’re going to jail; you can rot for all I care, packless, miserable excuses for wolves. No one will take you. You will all die without the bond to cling to. I hope you _suffer_.” Cas snarls annunciating the last few words and watching as some of the remaining wolves flinch from his scorn. He drops Samuel’s heart to the grass and turns to wrap his arms around Dean. 

“Thank you,” Dean whispers, curling into Cas' embrace, Dean's arm encircles Cas’ hip, his fingers stroking the flesh of Cas' waist. “Thank you.” 

“It’s over,” Cas says, placing a soft kiss on Dean’s temple before directing them up the steps of the cabin. 

"Yeah, finally... I'm finally free," Dean breathes and Cas feels the bond burn with Dean's pain, his sorrow, but also his hope. 

Slowly Cas reaches up and grips the back of Dean's neck with his clean hand, and Dean relaxes under his touch. Seeks him out and places a soft kiss to Cas' lips. "Thank you, thank you for being everything I needed."

"Always," Cas responds instantly, and Dean smiles against his lips. Once he's is sure Dean's ok, he reaches into the small box by the front door, pulling out a soft pair of boxer-briefs. 

He slips them on as Dean enters the cabin, his expression firm in the face of the injured inside and Cas is struck, not for the first time, by just how strong Dean is. Even in the face of trauma and carnage... while confronting his abusers. Cas isn’t sure if he would have been that brave, that determined, that composed had he been faced with Luke. 

Dean glances back at Cas, there’s fatigue written in the lines of his face and the slump of his shoulders. He’s got dirt and blood smeared along his neck and rubbed into his stubble, but when he offers Cas a small smile–the corners of his eyes crinkling–Cas is certain, that with Dean at his side, he’d be able to face down anything, even Luke.


	20. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few more old friends

The moment they set foot inside the cabin Dean jumps into action. There are wounded to be tended too, not many though, and Cas is grateful for that. They fared well against the Campbell’s, but they still have some losses. Alpha Mullen lost two pack members. Colette steps inside behind him and moves to their bodies, laid out on the rough wood floor of the kitchen. Two members of their town, their community. Two wolves who had friends, and families, careers, who came in hopes of stopping a nightmare and instead lost their lives.

“They won’t be forgotten,” Cas says softly, gripping Colette’s shoulder as her delicate fingers slide their eyelids closed.

“No, they won’t.” She says, kindly but firmly. “We do not regret coming to your aid Alpha Novak. Please do not bear the weights of their souls among your burdens. We were prepared to lose many more tonight to ensure no one else would have to face the horrors Dean has.”

She looks up, her eyes hard but clear, shimmering with tears yet unshed. “Now these monsters will never get their hands on another innocent. Who knows how many they’ve hurt? How many more Dean’s there are out in the world? No more. _No more._ ” Her voice is a bitter whisper as she turns back to the lifeless forms of her betas, tears finally breaking free and leaking quietly from her eyes.

“I have my men in the woods collecting the dead,” Cain says, stepping up beside Cas, his broad arms folded over his chest. He’s got a long gash from his right temple to his lip that's scabbed already; there’s a purple paste smeared over it to abate the poison, but he will always bear the scars of this night. His shirt is in tatters, and there’s blood flaked up his muscular forearms. “I’ve called Garth, and he will be out at first light to take our statements. We haven’t had a pack feud like this in decades. He’s going to want to talk to you.”

“I understand. I can meet you in town, or Garth can come up to the cabin.” Cas says, hands flexing at his sides. His skin itches, he wants to shower, to wash the blood and dirt off, to curl around Dean and sleep until all of this is a distant memory. 

The cabin smells of too many wolves, too many foreign scents, to much aconite poison hangs in the air. He wants to fling open the windows and let the night breeze creep in, but outside it smells like gunpowder and blood and death. So much destruction. 

Cool hands cup his jaw and angle his head. Dean’s face swims into focus, his eyes wide and concerned. “Come on Alpha; let's get you cleaned up.” 

The bathroom is quiet in comparison to the main room; he can still hear all the people milling around, shifting feet, heartbeats. But Dean turns on the showerhead and sets the water temperature to something just below warm before slipping them out of their clothes and guiding Cas under the spray. His hands are soft as he quietly rubs soap over Cas’ skin, massages the blood and dirt from between Cas’ fingers, his head dipped, brows pinched in concentration. Cas is suddenly exhausted, unable to move, to help, he stares at the top of Dean’s head as he drops to his knees and begins to scrub the mud from Cas’ calves.

“You did great, Cas,” Dean says looking up, voice cracking. “You did great.”

“Dean…” His voice breaks, shoulders slumping as tension leaves him in a rush. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear that. How Dean’s acceptance of the blood he spilled, of the lives, he took–evil or otherwise–meant to him. That he isn't Luke in this situation, he's his mother, Naomi. Rising to the defense of the pack–those who rely on him–against the wicked of the world.

“It’s ok. Let’s get you in bed.” Dean stands turning off the water, helping Cas out of the shower and wrapping a towel around his hips.

His limbs shake, the adrenaline that fueled him all night is gon,e leaving him weak. His head spinning, Cas leans heavily on Dean as they stumble to the bedroom. Their room is saturated in their scents, it mingles heavily here, untouched by the Mullen pack and the violence of the evening. It’s a soothing balm that Cas relaxes into, breathing deeply and sinking down on the bed. 

“I want you to rest. I know there are a lot of people in our territory right now. I know that this is stressful, and your instincts are probably still going haywire, but it's over now, and you can rest." Dean sits on the bed by his hip and brings a small cup to his lips "You _need_  to rest. This tea will help you sleep. What you had to do tonight, Cas, was not fair to you, especially after what happened to your family. I wish it could have been any other way, but I’m so thankful for you. For saving me, keeping me from the monsters of my past.”

“Dean,” Cas says softly, and Dean leans down to kiss him. 

“Rest. I’ll wake you if we need anything.”

The cabin and forest are a flurry of people and motion over the next three days. A small redheaded woman from  _ Hand&Paw _ shows up mid-afternoon on day one. She’s barely introduced herself as Charlie, before Dean’s wrapping her in a tight hug and spiriting her away to the spare bedroom. Charlie sets up camp there spending all day offering to counsel to those who need it. 

Oddly enough her scent is comforting, it is soft and unobtrusive, and Castiel warms to her presence almost immediately. He’s not sure if it's how Dean clearly trusts her, or that it was her idea to send Dean to him in the first place, but Cas likes her instantly. 

Garth is a reed-thin alpha, with a wide goofy smile and flat mouse brown hair. He’s dressed in a dark blue, heavily starched uniform, the bright golden badge of his station stands out starkly in the sunlight. He’s friendly, almost annoyingly positive, but there is a sharpness to his gaze that Cas’ wolf recognizes and respects. Garth’s extremely thorough in documenting the scene and taking statements. He’s patient as Cas stay’s close to him while he walks the forest and the clearing taking photos of the devastation.

"With the evidence already collected from Christians arrest, and the statements from the remaining betas..." Garth says, his hands on his hips as he breathes a sharp breath out of his nose. "Not to mention the recordings taken by the infrared cameras in the forest, the traffic cams in the town... this seems a pretty open and shut case."

Cas can only nod. It's difficult after so many years alone to have these many people, this many scents around all the time. However, Garth is both tactful and observant, careful to touch as little as possible as he does his rounds. Cas isn’t sure how many more alpha’s he can handle being in his territory before the urge to run everyone off becomes overwhelming. 

Seeming to pick up on Cas' unease quickly, once Garth's gathered everything he needs for his investigation he instructs both Cas and Cain that they are all clear to burn the bodies. Garth seems confident he has enough evidence to put the blame entirely on the Campbell pack.

“We take pack laws real serious around here,” Garth says, in his light, friendly tone, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Omega abduction, well abduction _period_ , is a serious offense. Let alone entering a territory without properly meeting with the local Alpha and inciting a pack war.” Garth sighs, shaking his head. “I’ll take care of everything and send my final reports along once its all been handled.” Garth clasps forearms with Cain and then Cas before he hops into his truck and heads back down the mountain. 

The breath that leaves Cas when Garth’s truck slips behind the tree line is audible. “Tonight we will bring up the rest of the pack,” Cain says conversationally, crossing his arms over his chest. “We will burn the bastards and get drunk over their corpses. We’ll dedicate the night to our two packs coming together, and while it might not be under the best circumstances, here we are a united front. Bonds forged in battle against a common foe.” Cain slaps a palm between Cas’ shoulder blades. “We should make it a yearly thing; it would be a good reason to get the packs together, keep the memory of those we've lost alive with celebration instead of mourning.”

It’s a lot to think about right now, Cas is overwhelmed, so he merely nods, turning to fall in step with Cain. They slowly do a circuit of the clearing, clean up is going well. Bodies and detritus are being removed from the woods and piled along the southern edge of the clearing. They're making their way back towards the cabin when Colette steps out of the front door, head held high shoulders back, she’s followed closely by four of her pack members carrying two draped gurneys between them. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says solemnly, and Cain draws a slow breath beside him. 

“We didn’t come up here unprepared Castiel. We were not lambs led to the slaughter. Do I wish that we hadn’t lost anyone? Of course, but it would be juvenile to think we would come out unscathed. Everyone who volunteered, and they were  _ volunteers _ , Castiel, they believed in the mission. Agreed with our cause, and only those who were prepared to pay the ultimate price joined us to take on the Campbell’s." Cain pauses for a moment, and both Alpha's watch the pack moving around the clearing.

"Part of it was selfish, part of it was selfless because after hearing your mates story, it would be un-Alpha like to let that kind of scum roam our territory without recourse. We couldn’t risk having them destroy your pack and then turn their gaze to ours.”

“Thank you,” Cas says emotion thick in his throat. “Thank you.”

With another slap to his back has Cas jolting under the force and Cain sets off across the clearing, instructing his pack on how to arrange the bodies recovered from the forest and to set the wood around them for tonight’s bonfires. Cas drags himself up into the house. The last of the injured are sitting around the table in the kitchen playing cards or lounging on the couches reading, aconite poisoning making their ordinarily rapid healing much slower.

There are so many more sounds now, so many heartbeats drumming in his ears, fighting for his attention; still, Cas is able to hone in on Dean’s with ease, following it down the hallway towards the spare bedroom. He’s just about to step inside when the hushed voices of a whispered conversation reach him.

“You can find him, I know you can Charlie. You have to, you have to find him.” Dean’s voice his low, pleading.

“I’m going to try Dean-o, I promise,” Charlie says, and there is a furious clicking that accompanies her words. "At least we know he's alive now!"

“I know. I know... it's just. If what Samuel said was true then there’s hope. There’s hope that he made it out, that he wasn’t corrupted.”

“Dean, stop hovering. Breathing down my neck isn’t going to make this happen any faster. I’m not a wizard I can’t just wave my hands over the internet and pull your brother from its depths. He managed to disappear from Samuel, Dean; I’m not going to be able to dig him up overnight. It could take weeks, months.”

“No one’s as good as you though, Charlie,” Dean whines, and it’s a desperate sound that has Cas pushing the door open a crack, the bed springs creak as Dean flops down onto the old mattress.

“Of course not.” Charlie sniffs, her fingers flying over her keyboard. “But flattery will get you everywhere.”

“No one commands Google like you do Charlie. Code trembles at the whisper of your username, you are a queen among mortals. You’re the only person who can find him, and you have to before it’s too late.”

“I’ll do my best, Papa-Bear,” Charlie says, her eyes glued to her screen.

Dean absently strokes over the skin of his stomach where his shirt has risen up. He sighs and lifts his head meeting Cas’ gaze through the crack in the door.

“Stop being a creeper and come inside. I need to properly introduce you to my best friend.”

“And caseworker.”

“...and caseworker, do you always have to do that?”

“By law, yes.”

Dean grumbles under his breath as Cas enters the room closing the door behind him.

“You're looking for your brother?” He asks sitting at the foot of the bed, Dean moves his legs and drapes them over Cas’ thighs.

“Yeah. His names Sam.” Dean sighs as Cas begins to rub his feet, he melts back against the mattress arms starfished out at his sides. “I haven’t seen him in years. Not since they pulled me from the Campbell’s. We’ve unsuccessfully tried to find him a few times. We thought it was because Samuel had brainwashed him into another one of his drones. Now I know that’s not true, I have to try again... Anyway, I guess it’s time you two get a proper introduction, Cas this is Charlie, Charlie this is my Alpha Cas.” 

Charlie stops typing for a moment and turns to face Cas fully, swinging around in the chair. She eyes him, and he sits up straighter in response meeting her gaze. She’s smart, her amber eyes swirl with knowledge and understanding that Cas can’t begin to fathom. 

There is a tense moment; it stretches until quite suddenly Charlie tilts her chin back, exposing the soft pale skin of her throat, and holds her right hand out, wrist flexed so her fingers point towards the ground, palm exposed. Cas leans in, surprised, and scents her wrist briefly before swiping his wrist over her pulse point, accepting her formally. It’s the first step of requesting access to Cas’ pack-if she so wanted it–and he’s shocked she dug so deeply into Pack Rites for their first greeting. Cas isn’t really sure what to make of it.

Her expression flickers and she barks a laugh reaching out and grabbing his hand pulling him into a one-armed hug. Her auburn hair cascades over his face, and he’s reminded of Anna. Cas holds her close, breathing in her soft lemon-balm scent until Dean complains his legs are being squished.

“I know everything there is to know about you, Castiel Novak,” Charlie warns, as they separate, her eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Everything.” She flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns back around. “If you think I sent my friend all the way out here without doing the proper research on you, well you’d be mistaken.” 

Cas isn’t sure what to say, his mouth opens and closes a few times until Dean nudges him with his toe and Cas takes up rubbing his feet again.

“You know what I could go for.” Dean sighs “Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream.”

“There will be a bonfire tonight,” Cas says as he digs his thumbs into Deans arches making him groan. “To burn the dead, repurify the land. I can ask Benny to bring up whatever you want. I assume we will have guests until at least tomorrow night.”

“That sounds fair.” Dean yawns.

“Charlie, you are, as my acceptance of you implies, welcome to stay as long as you would like.”

The tips of Charlie's ears grow faintly pink. “Thank’s Cas, I think I’ll be around a few months at least if you are so inclined to keep me.”

“Of course he is.” Dean yawns, his eyes closing, body relaxed.

“Of course I am,” Cas repeats softly, fondly, watching the lines of Dean’s face smooth out in sleep.


	21. Anything

Charlie spends the better part of the day hunched over her laptop and Cas thinks that if she’s going to stay, he’ll need to reevaluate the solar panel set up to accommodate the new power consumptions. In fact, he’s going to need to reevaluate all of his setups, from water to storage. 

He’s got that same itch under his skin, the burning drive to build, clean, and repair that he had just before Dean showed up. It niggles at him, draws him out of the house like there is a string attached to his sternum. He walks the clearing, stopping suddenly, the ground warm and soft under his bare feet.  _ Here _ , he thinks and begins to count his steps, toe to heel, measuring. After a while, Dean falls into step beside him.

“What are you doing?”

“I––I’m not sure, but I feel like I should build another cabin.”

“You do?” Dean asks running his hands down the front of his torso, flattening out his shirt.

“Yes. I got the same sensation to move, to build, a few weeks before you showed up.” Cas rolls his shoulders taking three more steps before dropping one of the sticks he’s holding onto the earth as a marker. “I resisted it then, but I’m going to listen now." Cas explains as he starts walking again, "My mother often spoke about how the Alpha senses are so much more than what our physical world offers. That we just have to close our eyes and open ourselves to it. My personal thoughts had been that it was a white lie she told to keep Hannah and me from sneaking cookies, but now....”

Cas takes a slow breath closing his eyes and feels the pull, a tension around his belly button, he turns right and counts out another few dozen steps, Dean keeping pace beside him. When he opens them again, he drops another stick. 

“The second cabin will go here. I don’t know what we will use it for yet, but I think I’ll have it done before the end of the summer.”

“That’s only a few weeks away,” Dean says.

“Yes,” Cas agrees, flexing his hands and surveying the slightly rectangular outline of the cabin. “As long as I can get the supplies I need, I’ll finish it.”

“Alpha Novak.”

Cas and Dean look up as Lenore comes trotting up the lawn. She stops a few feet from them and lowers her eyes, inclining her head before speaking. “We have two pigs prepared to roast tonight. We would need to dig pits and would like your permission to begin.”

“Of course, set them up to the right of the cabin, the bonfires will be off to the left by the path that leads to the lake. I’d like to keep the food away from any potential fumes.”

“Of course, thank you.” Lenore pauses “We would also like permission to chop up a few fallen trees, We noticed some juniper and pine that have succumbed to rot. Cain felt it would be best if we burned the corpses with a fragrant wood...”

“To help mask the scent, yes, an excellent idea.” Cas pauses, looking around at all the activity. “Have some of your younger pack members spend the day on the south side of the mountain, sage, sweetgrass, and lavender grow there. Those will help with the scent and cleansing.”

“Thank you, Alpha Novak.” Lenore bows her head “I'll see to it.”

“Being in charge looks good on you,  _ Alpha _ .” Dean purrs pressing his chest up against Cas’ back. He nips at Cas’ ear the and scent of Dean's arousal is sweet in Cas nose.

“Dean…” Cas turns, wrapping Dean in his arms and kissing him. His hands run over the firm muscles of Dean’s back curving down to cup his ass, palming the plush muscle. Dean nips at his lips rubbing his cheek against Cas’ face.

“Take me inside,” Dean whispers as he kisses down Cas’ jaw, 

“Everyone will smell us.” Cas groans, as he tugs Dean’s hips closer, their slowly thickening arousal brushing together. 

“Let them.” Dean purrs into Cas’ ear.

In one fluid motion, Cas lifts Dean by his ass, slipping one arm under his cheeks and the other wrapping firmly at the small of his back. Dean barks a laugh, his head tipping back and there is a lightness about him that Cas has never seen before. It's breathtaking.

He locks his long legs around Cas’ hips and throws his arms around Cas’ shoulders. Tilting his face up Cas captures Dean’s lips again as he marches them towards the house. It’s times like these he’s thankful for his enhanced alpha strength, Dean is not a small man and with the added weight and muscle he’s put on it would be impossible for Cas to manhandle him like this.

The scent of Dean’s arousal wafts off him like spiced apples and fall leaves. Cas wants to hoard it, he sucks his way down Dean’s neck licking at the warm, fragrant spot behind his ear and Dean moans low, his hands curling into Cas’ hair. There’s a long drawn out  _ whoop _ from somewhere behind them. Cas stops halfway up the front steps, startled. He’d completely forgotten anyone else was around. Dean smirks as the blush of embarrassment burns its way up Cas’ neck.

“Oh don’t stop on our account.” Cain’s voice calls merrily, “I’m well aware of the passion that infused an alpha post battle!” he calls gruffly, and a few of his pack mates howl with laughter. 

_"Cain_ .” Colette hisses playfully.

“Claim your mate, Alpha Novak!” Cain booms as Cas stomps up the steps again, face buried in Dean’s shoulder while the man himself shakes with laughter in his arms. “We will endeavor not to listen.”

“Well most of us will.” A voice Cas doesn’t recognize calls out and more of the Mullen pack yip and howl with mirth.

Cas kicks the open front door closed behind them, as Dean stares down at him, eyes warm, lips parted, a deep flush on his cheeks as he pants. With each step Cas takes Dean rolls his hips, his ass flexing against Cas’ arm, his hard cock pushing on Cas’ stomach. The scent of his slick is dazzling, sparkling in Cas' senses, rising above all the other scents fogging their cabin; it makes Cas’ mouth flood with saliva. 

They crash into the wall of the hallway Cas grinding up onto Dean’s hips, rutting their bodies together as Dean retakes his mouth, licking in, filling Cas with his flavor. Somewhere down the hall, Charlie’s door opens, her head pops out and she yelps, slamming it closed again, dragging them out of their haze.

“Bed,” Cas growls, hefting Dean's back off the wall and kicking their bedroom door open then nudging it closed behind them again.

“Make me come, Cas.” Dean moans as Cas’ drops him on their bed, he tosses his head back exposing his throat. “Show them who I belong to. Let them hear the pleasure you bring me.”

Cas drapes himself over Dean’s body, working quickly to remove their clothing as he bites marks on each newly exposed section of skin. 

“Sing for me, Dean,” Cas says dropping his head and sucking Dean down to the root.

Only after Dean comes down Cas's throat, and he’s relaxing back on the bed, eyes closed, chest heaving, does Cas make him turn over. He lifts Dean’s hips, setting him on his knees, shoulders to the mattress, his ass curved high and lovely, wet with slick and presented perfectly for Cas to take him apart all over again. This time with his fingers and tongue. It’s only when Dean begins to beg, his voice broken, sputtering loud whimpers and half choked pleas into his pillow, does Cas finally stroke over his neglected prostate. 

“Come, Dean,” Cas growls, letting his alpha tone fill his words. Dean chokes, his body going rigid, his hands shifting into beta-form, claws slicing into the mattress. Slick floods over Cas’ palm and the three fingers he’s plunged deep inside of Dean. Carefully he lowers Dean’s loose and pliant body to the mattress, crawling up the back of his thighs Cas parts Dean’s cheeks and sinks his aching cock into Dean’s warm, wet hole.

Cas sets up a slow, comfortable pace, rolling his hips just hard enough to hear the slick slide of his cock in Dean’s body. His lips flutter over Dean’s shoulder, licking, tasting, his hands sliding through sweat as he strokes over Dean’s ribs and down his arms. 

“Can you come for me? Can you come again, Dean? Will you come on my knot?” Cas growls, nipping his skin.

Dean chokes, his hips stuttering back to meet Cas’ thrusts. “F–fuck,” he gasps turning his head, his lips are parted, soft and flush, just begging for a kiss. Cas sucks his bottom lip, dipping his tongue into Dean’s mouth as the omega groans under a particularly hard thrust. “I’ve created a monster.” Dean manages, spreading his legs and bowing his back to give Cas better access.

Cas chuckles, and as it turns out, Dean can come again and does so, his body convulsing around Cas’ swollen knot. Their mutual pleasure filling the small bedroom in scent and sound.

“Good boy. So good.” Cas croons, sleep pulling heavily at the edges of his eyes. Dean sighs under him, and Cas carefully rolls them to their sides mindful of where they are tied together. “I think we earned a nap.”

“I think we all earned a nap!” Charlie shouts from the hallway, and Dean huffs a laugh that melts into a yawn. 

“I’m never going to live this down,” Dean says. 

“She’ll get used to it.” Cas hums, into the back of Dean’s neck, his fingers stroking over the soft skin of Dean’s stomach.

“I’m not even into dudes, and that was some of the hottest shit I've had the– _ extremely _ uncomfortable–pleasure of overhearing,” Charlie announces hours later the moment a freshly cleaned and clothed Cas and Dean step out of the bedroom. “Not that I could avoid listening in the first place. Top of the line noise canceling headphones and I still heard Dean come, more than once, which by the way,” She holds her hand up palm out towards Cas, who after a moment of confusion slaps his against it. 

“Nice,” she winks. 

“Shove it,” Dean says pushing her shoulder and strolling past her towards the front door.

“Hey, nice walk Winchester!” She calls as Dean yanks the front door open, he grunts, spinning to point at her, his frame shadowed by the night creeping in from outside and shouts:

“I’m bowed legged; this is how I  _ always _ walk!” His back goes stiff as from behind him the sounds of activity suddenly falls utterly silent before erupting in contagious howls of laughter. “Damn it,” Dean grumbles turning on his heel and stomping out the door.

“He’s…” Charlie bites her lip, eyes watery. “He’s so happy!” her body sags, and she flings herself against Cas’ torso, wrapping her arms around him. “He’s so happy! I’ve never seen him like this.”

Awkwardly Cas pats her on the head until she sniffles and pulls back rubbing at her eyes. “Right, game faces! Tonight we mock Dean’s walk and how much he whimpers… or is that too much? Should I leave the whimpering out? _Oh, my God!_  I’m going to carry around a pillow and anytime he goes to sit down I’m going to offer it to him.”

“Charlie…” Cas warns but she’s already grabbing a small throw pillow off the couch and heading for the door.

“No, no. It will be great!” She insists, “I’ve earned this.”

Chuckling Cas follows her out into the night. The mood in the clearing is somber as he steps out onto the deck, the weight of the last few days settles like onto his shoulders, but he feels more prepared to bear it now. Schooling his expression, Cas greets Cain at the bottom of the steps.

“We felt it best if both packs were present to light the fires.” Cain holds out a torch for Cas, a matching one in his hand. “To symbolize the bond between our packs and the cleansing of the past through the rage of fire.”

“Of course,” Cas agrees as they walk towards the pyre. It’s stacked high with round trunked logs propped up against an internal structure so high that the bodies within aren’t visible. Woven between the wood are bundles of dried herbs and chains of fresh flora. Cain approaches Colette to the right, and Castiel takes a spot by Dean on the left. In perfect harmony, Dean and Colette strike their matches and light the torches. 

The flare of fire is blinding for a moment, and then the darkness settles in again, just as quiet as before. The tension in the air is heavy, everyone seems to be waiting for something, it sits like a rock on Cas’ chest, and as he looks away from the burning light in his hands, Cain gives him a stiff nod. 

Clearing his throat Cas turns his attention to the wolves, Dean’s hand slips into his and gives it a slight squeeze.

“Tonight is both a night for reflection and rejoicing.” He begins, voice echoing slightly in the stillness. He’s not entirely sure what he’s to say, but he lets his senses guide him, feels the thrum of all those gathered flowing through him. “Tonight we will remember those we have lost. For they gave themselves, without question, without hesitation, to ensure that tomorrow and every morning after, the sun will rise on a world that is a little safer, a little warmer. That the shadowed corners of our lives are just a little brighter, and the nights a little less frightening. That there are fewer people out there, who will do harm to the innocent among us. For those we have lost, they are our heroes.”

“To Ludensky and Madison,” Cain calls into the night, and the packs howl long and loud, filling the air with their cries. When the last howl fades away, and the forest is silent again Cas goes on.

“Tonight is for rejoicing, too. For we have waded through blood and together forged a bond between our packs that will carry on for generations. We will feast and drink and sleep among the stars. We will set fire to our past, to our enemies. They will burn, and as their bodies turn to dust, we will lift the blight they dared bring to our land. With this fire, we will wash our soil clean. We will rise, united, reborn from the ashes of our pain.”

“To the alliance between the Mullen and Novak packs!” Cain shouts, and again the night pulses with wolf call. When silence falls over the clearing for the second time, it’s lighter. The air feels open and welcoming, the breeze crisp and clean, and the tension that hung so pungent–pressing in on Cas–is gone. Looking around at those assembled, their eyes solemn under the clear night sky, he turns to Dean and holds out the torch. 

Without hesitation Dean wraps his broad, warm palm around Cas’ and together they light the pyre. Across from them Cain and Colette mirror their actions, stepping back in tandem as the flames lick up the side of the wood; dried and fresh, herbs and flowers, flesh and bone, all succumbing to the purifying flame. 

"I didn't know you were had that in you, Cas." Dean whispers, his voice solemn, reverence held in the softly spoken words. 

"Me either, but it felt right," Cas says his eyes drifting from the fire to Dean. "I've read a lot, in my solitude, many works by men more eloquent than I am, and this," Cas gestures to the people milling around quietly, watching the flames steadily grow "This just felt like one of those few moments in our lives where saying the right thing can make all the difference. Words have power and if putting my feelings into speech can help us heal, help everyone move forward, I am willing to do so."

They stand in silence as the fire steadily grows, everyone lost to their own thoughts. In the flickering distortion of the heat above the flames, Cas sees Anna’s bright smiling face, next to her Hannah’s dark hair and gray eyes shine. Anna throws her arms around Hannah's neck embracing, their smiles wide. Cas' eyes burn, and he blinks in the face of the smoke, tears unshed, unable to look away from their faces.

He wants to go to them, to show them his mate and share with them his joy but as he steps towards the flames, Anna rolls her eyes and Hannah sticks out her tongue, forever fourteen, forever as he remembers her, and with a flicker, they're gone. Their ghosts swirling away, melting into the smoke and heat. And Cas knows it's their last goodbye. They're letting him go. He doesn’t need them watching over him anymore, that they are truly at rest. Now, he too can let them go.

At his side Dean squeezes his hand, his face washed warm in the glow of firelight, and in the distance, someone starts to play a slow winding song on a fiddle. Dean shares a soft, private smile and leans in to whisper in Cas’ ear.

“Come'an eat you mangy mutts!” Cain shouts.

But Cas doesn’t hear him or the responding call, his eyes wide with shock, as he pulls sharply back from where Dean is speaking into his ear. The scent of pit-roasted pig erupts into the air along with the joyous yips of the Mullen pack.

“What?” Cas breathes, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Yeah,” Dean says, biting his bottom lip around a smile. 

The fiddle picks up a raucous tempo, Andrea jumps in with a tambourine a tiny baby strapped to her front, Benny seamlessly flowing in on a harmonica. The wolves in the clearing whoop and dance, eating and drinking, passing bottles of homemade alcohol around, utterly oblivious to Cas’ entire world changing.

“Don’t cry, Alpha,” Dean whispers as his thumbs rub tears from Cas’ cheekbones. 

“Dean…” Cas manages voice choked. 

The kiss is soft, Dean cups his jaw, his fingertips stroking the smooth skin behind Cas’ ears, their lips press and Cas’ is overcome with joy. His chest aches with his happiness, hands twisting in Dean’s shirt as he leans into the kiss. Dean meets every swipe of his tongue, every nip of his teeth. And everything in Cas’ world is perfect. With Dean by his side, he can take on anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this, just one more little bit to go and you're free of me. Thanks for reading my first ever MiniBang. It's been a trip, and it's been not so mini. <3


	22. Pack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue, six months later.

The second cabin stands almost as large as the first one; it looms dark and empty against the ring of trees that marks the edge of the clearing. A stiff fall wind blows a cool breeze through their branches, shaking loose dead leaves. The cabin's been finished for a few weeks now, quiet and waiting. For who, though, Cas isn't sure. 

This time last year Cas had stood alone on the dock and howled his misery to the slate gray sky. Now, his life is bright and vibrant, full of life and love and _people._  The Mullen pack members make frequent trips up to the cabin now, and Cas is steadily becoming more and more comfortable with the life and vitality they bring with them. Dean seems to flourish among them, content and happy when surrounded by a pack.

Cas too is so infinitely different from who he used to be that if he crossed paths with his old ,, he wouldn't even recognize himself. 

Dropping his chisel back into the toolbox Cas dusts off his hands and takes a step back to admire his work. It’s still warm enough out that he’s sweat through his shirt, long ago removing it. It’s another marked difference from the previous fall. Back then the wind had howled, angry and cold, bringing ice with it. This year, warmth spreads its fingers through the air and keeps him sweating long into the evenings.

Running his hand over the wood of the door in front of him Cas sighs happy with his work, his fingers dipping into the grooves of a carved woodland fairy. Her petitle form perches in the center of a large sunflower. It’s the third, and he thinks, for now, final cabin. It’s smaller than the first two, as he needed to complete it rather quickly, and mostly because the occupant is smaller. The solar panels on the roof had taken the longest to obtain and install, but now that it’s done the itch under Cas’ skin has finally abated.

Contentment and exhaustion war through his body, as he is finally able to relax. It’s been weeks of planning, building, negotiating with suppliers–mostly headed by Benny– and all of it bankrolled by his family's inheritance and the insurance money he'd been awarded after the courts had finally tracked him down with the settlement from the Novak pack war. Cas has been living off of it for his entire adult life, but as he’s never needed a lot to support himself, the funds have only grown with interest over time. He doubts, at this point, his tiny pack will ever be in financial need.

Charlie squeals as she darts up beside him. “It’s perfect!” She sighs running her fingers over the carvings that surround the small circular window. “I love it. It looks like an above ground hobbit hole!” 

“It’s all yours,” Cas says with a grin, gesturing to the door.

“Thanks, Cas,” Charlie responds, her voice wavering slightly. “Thanks, Alpha.” She says more softly tipping her chin back, eyes lowered, and Cas lifts his sweaty wrist and rubs it against her pulse point, scent marking her. She throws her arms around his chest with an excited chirp, uncaring of his bare torso of the sweat on his skin.

This is something he’s had to get used to, how much Dean and Charlie need him to touch them, mark them, how it calms them everytime he reaffirms their pack bond this way.   He stands with the little beta wrapped up around him, gently twirls a strand of her aubourn hair around his finger.

Charlie’s been with them since the attack, fitting in like a missing piece in Cas and Dean’s life, making herself at home in the spare room until Cas finished her cabin. Up until recently, she'd been working remotely for the main office at  _ Hand&Paw _ until they let her go. It was their first rough night, the first time Cas had seen them for what they were, a little pack, more than jsut he and Dean. Charlie was his now, as much as he was hers. That was the first night he'd really fest their fledgeling bond fluttering with her distress.

A short three weeks after everything on the mountain had finally settled down Charlie received a formal contract cancellation email from  _ Hand&Paw _ . Apparently, it’s against their code of conduct to interfere in pack relations.

Gently pulling on the strang curled aorund his finger Cas looks down at the top of Charlies head and remembers how she' d burst into the living area in tears. Confessing that she told her job she was on vacation and not out offering to counsel to those affected by pack on pack violence. Her distress was so palpable that Dean started to sniffle, his eyes rimmed red as he blinked back tears. Cas didn’t know what to do, until he did, pulling them both to the floor in front of the fire and snuggling them.

“Puppy pile.” Charlie had sniffed a while later her tone breathless and calm as she pressed her face against Cas’ chest. The bond between them humming softly in his chest. He is active in his efforts to touch her daily affirm the bond through scent and contact, like his mother had, to praise her efforts and rencourage her. It's been difficult and Cas is not perfect but he's learning and Charlie and Dean are as supportive of him as he is of them.

It was little surprise to Dean when Charlie burst into the cabin a few days later announging she'd set up a website to provide long distance and email based counseling. Her smile huge and her scent vibrant as she told Cas that she had both a degree and experience, and would be using it. That she’d contribute to the pack, in all the ways she knew how, and Cas had done everything he could to support her so that she would always know her place and worth among the pack.

Now, as they stand in front of the cabin Cas built for her, her own space on pack lands, their connection flutters warm and happy in his chest. 

“How is Dorothy?” Cas asks, storking her head as Charlie hums softly to herself tracing the carvings, her eyes liquid warm.

“She’s good,” Charlie says blushing, finally stepping out of her Alpha's embrace. “She’s in South Africa right now but says she will be back in time for the Winter Solstice.”

“I look forward to meeting her,” Cas says and Charlie squeals and hugs him again, pressing her face against his collarbone. 

She’s been courting Dorothy for a few weeks now, but as the woman is human a lot of the little things Charlie does for her aren’t as impactful. Dean still enjoys beinging up the time Charlie spent an entire day in a daze after bumping into Dorothy wearing a flannel she 'borrowed' from Charlies closet. To which Charlie always asks if Dean needs a pillow to sit on. It's obvious Charlie is happy, and Cas knows that having her Alpha offer to meet her intended mate is a good thing.

He’s gotten so used to the Mullen pack visiting them unannounced that he doesn’t think anything of the truck pulling into the clearing until it’s too late. The scent of a strange alpha reaches his nose, and he’s growling, pulling Charlie behind himself.

“Go around back, get to Dean, lock yourselves in the storage closet. Do not come outside under any circumstances.” Cas whispers to her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before turning and charging forward, Charlie yelps darting around the back of the main cabin.

Cas leaps into the clearing shifting, clothes ripping as his wolf bursts out of his skin. The other alpha is massive, broad shoulders with lengthy brown hair, he staggers back agasint the truck as Cas appears, eyes round in shock and Cas has to look up to meet his eye. He snarls expecting an attack, he places himself between the other alpha and the front of the cabin.

Snapping his teeth, lips lifted in a snarl Cas waits for the other alpha to shift, to fight. Why else would he be here without an escort from the Mullen pack? There is no way to reach the road to the cabin without going through town, so surely one of the Mullens would have called ahead to warn them. Cas lurches a step forward huffing and tossing his head, and the giant alpha flinches back, hazel eyes glued to Cas as his body slams into the truck behind him, his fear stench leaking out of his pores. 

_ Good, _ Cas thinks, he should be afraid.

The front door bangs open and Cas growls. Charlie's pleas for Dean to stop reach his ears. In front of him, the other alpha tears his eyes away from Cas and sucks a breath. Through the bond, Cas can feel Dean’s shock, his _joy?_

“Dean…” The alpha exhales in a rush.

“Sam,” Dean laughs, surprised Disbelief in his tone, his boots thunder down the front steps. “Sam, how?!”

Cas growls stepping into Dean’s path, placing his body between Dean and the other alpha. 

“Dean, you’re…” the other alpha breathes shocked, his face pinching as his eyes flick over Dean's body. “Dean, stay back.” 

Finally, the other alpha– _Sam–_ stands up straight, face determined. At his sides, his hands curl into claws. Cas snaps his maw, barking, snarling until Dean bops him firmly on the snout and everything freezes.

“Cas, knock it off,” Dean says fondly pushing on Cas’ flank. “Move you, big idiot. That’s my brother.”

Cas swings his head to the other alpha, to Sam, who is once again blinking at them, eyes wide, skin pale. His scent floods with shock that Dean just bopped a giant black wolf on the snout without any trace of fear.

“Shift back. Shift back Cas and be nice. You’re scaring him.” Dean presses, before turning his attention to his brother. “Just, uh, stand down, yeah? He’s a little overprotective.”

“He’s a lot overprotective!” Charlie shouts from her position in the doorway. Cas huffs rolling his eyes, and grumbling at her with little snaps of his maw. She blushes. “How was I supposed to stop him he outweighs me by like a hundred pounds!”

“A hundred pounds…?” Dean guffaws, looking over his shoulder at Charlie who smiles enormous in return.

Licking his jowls and turning a narrowed eye on Sam, Cas shifts fluidly back to his human form. He places himself between Dean and Sam as the other wolf says,

“Holy shit.”

“Yeah, pretty cool huh?” Dean runs a hand over his belly as he bounces on the balls of his feet. “Cas this is Sam, Sam this is my Alpha Cas.”

“Is he…”

“Yeah,” Dean says, beaming with pride, his fingers tapping his stomach.

“Holy shit.” Sam reaches out his fingers spread, his face amazed. “You’re pre–“

Cas snarls, he can’t help it. Stepping in front of Dean his eyes flash red in warning and Sam snatches his hand back. 

“Cas, Jesus.” Dean snaps, “It’s my fucking brother, we’ve been looking for him for months!”

“I know…” Cas pleads only glancing over his shoulder to look at Dean, unable to take his eyes off Sam. “I know, Dean. But we don’t know him, I don't know him, my wolf..." Cas huffs in frustration, eyeing Sam "We don’t know how he found us. We don't know what happened to him since he left the Campbells. I can’t risk you. I won't risk any of you.” He looks to Charlie now standing on the porch as he gently cups the curve of Dean’s stomach meeting his eye as well. “Not again.”

“Sam?” A delicate voice calls from behind the bed of the truck.

“No, Eileen. Stay back.”

“Papa!” A soft voice shrieks and in a flash a small dark-haired pup comes bolting around the tailgate flinging herself against Sam’s leg. Her eyes are large and bright, warm like chocolate, as she snuffles her face against Sam’s knee.

“Oh god, Deanna, no.“ A small dark-haired woman rushes after her. She grabs the girl and tucks her against her hip, as Sam steps in front of them both.

“You brought your mate... and your pup?” Cas says, surprised.

“Y... yes,” Sam says slowly his hands cradling the woman behind to him “This is my mate, Eileen.”

It’s an incredible show of trust and faith, and it leaves Cas momentarily dumbfounded. No alpha looking to start a war would bring children with them.

“You named your pup after me?” Dean says, his voice thick with emotion.

“Anna!” The pup growls, brave to a fault, her eyes flash where she shoves her face passed her mothers hands and peaks around her fathers bicep. A grumpy little frown marring her pretty face. Her voice is far too light and childish to do anything more than make Dean laugh, however, the proclamation sticks in Cas’ throat like a barb.

“Anna?” Cas chokes his body warming with emotion.

“You’re not wearing pants!” Anna says primly, her nose in the air, reminding him of his ,'sister so much Cas wants to cry. Instead, he blinks down at himself for the first time since Sam’s arrival.

“No, I am not.” He agrees gruffly, glancing over his shoulder moving his hands to cover his nudity. Charlie is already bounding down the steps a pair of boxer-briefs in her hands. He slips them on as she slides up to the group waving her fingers at Anna.

“Look, Cas,” Sam says his hands held out to his sides, fingers spread in a non-threatening manner. “I’m not here to challenge you for your pack. I’m not here to take Dean from you. Eileen and I have been searching for him for so long, for such a long time. I just... I miss him. I want to be part of his life. I want to get to know the brother that was taken from me. I want him to be part of Deanna’s life.”

“Anna!” The pup squeaks again reaching out and tugging her father's long hair. 

“Anna, sorry stringbean,” Sam says fondly kissing her small fist before turning his attention back to Cas.

“Anna, hush,” Eileen begs, apparently used to the antics of a hyper child.

“Please, Cas,” Sam says as he drops to his knees, tilting his chin back and bearing the full length of his throat. “Please give me a chance to have the family I lost.” Beside him Eileen drops to her knees, holding their child close, she bares her throat.

Dean gasps, his hand snapping out to grip Cas’ wrist, as he breathes “Sam... no.”

“It doesn’t matter, Dean.” Sam insists as he holds his hands out in front of him, palms open, fingers pointing towards the earth. “I’ve spent too long trying to find you; I won't lose you again.” His hazel eyes swing to Cas. “I have no problem submitting to you Cas; my pack is small, it's just the three of us, we have no territory, no home to call our own." Sam licks his lips.

"We drifted all over the country together," Eileen says her voice husky her speach slow, delebrate. "I have no family of my own, no pack. I supported Sam when he told me about you Dean, how he watned to find you. Pack is important to us both, and when Deanna came it cemented our need to settle down, but with our whole pack, with you."

"I was alone for so long running from my past, consumed with erasing the misery of what the Campbell's did to me, to you." His eyes find Dean's "Finding you, it became an obsession, but I had no money, no resources. I was so lost for so long until I met Eileen and together we made the decision. We are willing to do whatever it takes to bring us all back together," Sam's hazel eyes move from Dean to Cas as he makes his case, his scent is clean and his heartbeats evenly, no lies are hide among his words. 

"This scenario is something Eileen, and I talked about. What would happen if we ever found Dean, the steps we would take to secure his safety. " Sam's eyes drift down Dean's body taking in the swell of his stomach.

"You’ve obviously been taking good care of my brother, Cas, better care than I ever could.”

“Sam…” Dean whines.

Sam presses on not even pausing to look at his brother. “This is one of the better scenarios we envisioned encountering, the best if I'm being honest. And if you can look after us with half the care you look after my brother we'll be happy here. I have no other family. Eileen and Deanna are all I’ve got in this world. If you accept us, maybe we won’t have to drift anymore. Maybe we can find the happiness we’ve been searching for here.” Sam licks his lips. “Don’t send us away. Don’t send us away from the only family we have.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, his grip iron tight on Cas’ wrist. Charlie sniffles softly from behind his other shoulder, her fingertips pressing against his back for reassurance. 

The uncomfortable tightness is pulling at his sternum again. It tugs him towards Sam with an urgency he hasn't felt since Dean's arrival. And maybe that’s what it's been guiding him towards; maybe it is his role, his purpose to care for these brothers. To look out for them, offer them sanctuary, protection, family. 

Cas takes in all the faces surrounding him, Dean with his wide, pleading eyes, Charlie as her bottom lip trembles, and Sam with his small but trusting family. Their eyes lowered necks exposed in a sign of faith. Their pup, so quiet, now with her large amber eyes, her face half tucked into her mother’s hair. 

This is his pack. This is who he built the second cabin for, he’s certain.

“I would never.” Cas rumbles stepping into Sam’s space and cupping his jaw. Carefully he runs the pads of his thumbs over Sam’s cheekbones, sliding them down to stroke behind his ears before curling his palms and rubbing the soft skin on the inside of his wrists down Sam’s neck. Sam lets out a shuddering breath, relaxing as Cas moves on to Eileen repeating the scent marking. "I would never take you from your family."

“Anna…” Cas rumbles softly, and the little girl looks up at him, her nose twitching as she scents the air before shoving her hand out towards him. Castiel rubs the small of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter against his thumb. When he steps back, she sniffs it, smiles shyly up at him and ducks her face against her mother's neck again.

“Such a flirt.” Eileen sighs.

“Get up, get up,” Dean commands excitedly, waving his hands as he finally pushes past Cas to get his hands on his brother. “Jesus it’s good to see you.”

Sam for his part, doesn’t respond, he wraps his long arms around Dean and drops his face into the curve of Dean’s neck. 

“Oh, my god, you big softie.” And even though he’s trying not to, there are tears leaking from the corners of Dean’s eyes. “How many years has it been?”

“Too many,” Sam responds, voice choked. “Meet my mate, Eileen, and your niece, Anna.”

“Dean,” Eileen says, voice thick, wrapping her free arm around Dean’s neck and pulling him down into a hug. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Oh, my god, Anna!” Eileen cries as Anna brazenly rubs her cheek against Dean’s as he hugs Eileen. “We do not scent mark people without their permission.”

“He smells nice!” Anna argues, pouting out her bottom lip.

“Alpha, I am so sorry. She has better manners than that, I swear it.” Eileen looks slightly frightened.

“She… she’s just like my sister.” Cas says shock and joy making his chest tight, he tips his head back and laughs. “I think I built you a cabin!” He manages between bouts of hearty, full-bodied laughter.

“What?” Sam asks astonished.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean says with a smile. “Come’re you minx” he holds his arms out for Anna, and she swings into them without hesitation, running her small fingers over his chin and down his neck. 

The sight of Dean with the pup on his hip does something to Cas, the warmth in his body expanding into something big and light and happy. He drapes his arm over Charlie's shoulder following, as Dean leads Sam and Eileen around the main cabin to the two smaller ones out back.

“How did you find us?” Dean asks as he tickles Anna’s ribs.

“We saw a report about Samuel’s pack invading and attacking another in this area in an attempt to abduct a, _here too_ , unnamed omega.” Sam says, “You have to understand Eileen, and I have been trying to find you since you were taken. Samuel told me you were dead, but he’d get drunk sometimes and mumble how he’d get you back one day, so I knew it wasn’t true. The moment I could, I left, it was difficult to disappear, you know how he was.”

“Yeah,” Dean agrees darkly.

“Unfortunately for me, he had changed my last name to Campbell, going on about there being ‘ _ nothing like a legacy _ ',”

“Legacy?” Cas asks

“That's why we couldn’t find you,” Charlie whispers.

“My full name is Samuel Winchester. He thought it was some kind of sign that I was meant to be his prodigy, take over his pack of demented psychos. He hung your death over my head, Dean. But I knew you were alive I could feel it.”

“I’m here Sammy. You found me.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, and his voice is pinched. Dean sets Anna down, gripping Sams' arm and pulling him into another hug. When they part Sam turns to look at Charlie.

“You were looking for me?”

“Yeah, for months once Samuel confirmed you were alive. But we didn’t think he’d change your name, though it does make sense. If anyone, even us, tried to search for you, with you both having the same name, only he'd show up, as he’s the legal listed pack Alpha. If he didn’t release your records, then he could blot you out behind his name. He hid you pretty well.”

“Bastard.” Dean swears, “He’s dead now. Cas killed him, and most of his pack, the rest are in jail.”

“I know the papers covered it in detail. Pack wars don’t happen much anymore, not since the Novak’s decades ago. What a mess that was.” Sam shakes his head.

“That it was,” Cas agrees with a small smile on his lips.

“Ah, right…” Dean says shifting awkwardly “Sam, so... meet Castiel Novak, your new Alpha.” 

“Shit,”

“It’s quite alright, Sam,” Cas assures him as Sam flushes with panic. “The past is for memories. The feud between my pack was, as you say, a mess. It’s over now, and with Charlie's help, I’ve been able to overcome the trauma of my youth so that it does not repeat itself. I think this cabin was intended for your family.” Cas says, and everyone turns. “I had the urge, for some reason, to make all the doorways half a foot taller than I normally would have. I understand now.”

“Ok, babe, that's super weird,” Dean says as he slips his arm around Cas' waist.

“Tell me about it,” Cas says with a shake of his head. “Welcome to the family Sam, Eileen... Anna.”

“Thank you.” Eileen breaths, smiling up at Sam as she slips her hand in his.

“Mama says people need to wear pants when they go outside,” Anna shouts from where she’s plucking leaves up off the grass.

“Right…” Cas says looking down at his bare feet. “First, I will put on some proper clothes then Charlie, and I will contact the Mullen pack. First notify them of your arrival and second, to begin the process of getting your last name changed. Both Dean and Charlie have opted to hyphenate, and I would give you the same respect.”

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“Cas, if you please.”

“Let’s get your truck unloaded,” Dean says clapping his hands together. “Benny can get you anything else you need from town. He’ll be up with his pup tomorrow for dinner!”

“Dean…” Cas rumbles in warning.

“No heavy lifting…”

“Dean!” Charlie sighs exasperatedly.

“Fine!” Dean snaps, both of his hands stroking over his round stomach. “But, I’m not an invalid, you know!”

“We know.” Cas says placing his hand over Dean's “But Bess says limited activity.”

“H–how long.” Sam breathes his hand again creeping out towards Dean’s stomach. This time Cas doesn't stop him and the soft, choked noise Sam makes as he strokes over Dean’s abdomen is both beautiful and sad.

“Just broke six months.” Dean beams, “Didn’t think it was possible. Doctors told me all my parts were messed up from... well, you know.”

“Fuck,” Sam manages but his face is flushed, and his eyes are red with emotion. He really does smell like warm, slightly dusty books when he’s emotional.

“Twins,” Dean says, and Sam sobs out a laugh. “Hey, they run in Cas’ family.”

“That they do.” Cas says with a fond smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags: for non-graphic descriptions of Mpreg
> 
> Okay, so there we have it. Thank you for taking this journey with me. It has been a labor of love. It would mean the world to me if you'd share your thoughts and comments below. Please give my wonderful artist [TheDogsled](https://thedogsled.tumblr.com) a follow
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